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J3 Y . 

Marie Walsh 


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Hazel Kirke, "Saints and Sinners,” 

"Forl^ve of Gold ’’ & c &c. 


CHICAGO: 

MORRILL, HIGGINS & CO., PUBLISHERS, 

Idylwild Series. Yol. I. No. 6, May 10, 1892. Issued weekly. Annual Subscription, $26,00. 
Entered in the Postoffice at Chicago as second-class matter. 


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P. 99. 


THEY DID NOT NOTICE HIS ENTRANCE 


THE WIFE 

OF 

TWO HUSBANDS. 



MARIE WALSH. 

Vl 

Author of “ Hazel Kirke, ” “Saints and Sinners.” “For 
Love of Gold,” Etc. 


Chicago: 



I^orrillHiggins $ Go. 



1802 . 

COPYRIGHT 

by 

MARIE WALSH, 


All rights reserved. 


CONTENTS, 


Chapter Page 

I. Covet not thy neighbor’s wife 7 

II. Dawn of a second love 17 

III. Over the plains 29 

IV. Wilson’s assassination 36 

V. Friends in need 41 

VI. Coming events cast their shadows before 48 

VII. A Mormon wife’s trial 61 

VIII. The three strangers 68 

IX. The escape 80 

X. The widow’s infatuation 94 

XI. A mad marriage 108 

XII. Professor Hobart’s mesmeric power 125 

XIII. Murder will out 137 

XIV. Ernest Van Tine’s western home 150 

XV. The wife of two husbands if 59 

XVI. Emma’s journey to Utah 173 

XVII. A Mormon household : 184 

XVIII. A Mormon convert 192 

pu] 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter Page 

XIX. Kate Vaughan’s betrothal 209 

XX. The broken promise 220 

XXI. A Mormon father’s fanaticism 237 

XXII. Baffled 249 

XXIII. Kate Vaughan’s despair 265 

XXIV. Too late *. 278 

XXV. The midnight funeral 300 

XXVI. Emma’s resolve 309 

XXVII. The missing links. . . 321 

XXVIII. “They shall take who have the power.” 332 


THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS. 


CHAPTER I. 

COVET NOT THY NEIGHBOR’S WIFE. 

Dick Melton was a cool dare-devil by nature, and a 
born soldier ; he belonged to the tiger order of mea 
He was tall, well-formed and was thought handsome 
by those who only look at the features and do not 
study the meaning of their expression. Character 
cannot be entirely hidden. A man cannot always 
wear a mask ; at times a sudden expression will light 
up his countenance and betray some sinister thought 
to the keen observer. 

Richard Melton’s hair was light brown and he 
wore it cut close to a rather well-shaped head ; his 
eyes were of that cold shade of blue-gray, in which, at 
times, a cruel flash may be detected ; his nose was 
straight with the pinched nostrils, which disclose to 
the physiognomist the crafty nature of the man ; the 
beauty of his mouth was marred by the sensual curve 


8 COVET NOT TIIY NEIGHBOR’S WIFE. 

of his lips. Still he was admired by many ; but it 
was the admiration one would have for the good 
points of a horse. 

Ernest Van Tine was the exact opposite of his 
friend. He was not quite as tall, but his figure had 
the easy grace of a gentleman. Perhaps he may have 
inherited his bearing, for he was better born than 
his friend, adverse fortune having compelled him 
to mingle with the honest, hard working middle 
class. 

Ernest would probably not have been termed a 
handsome man, but he had a face that women, chil- 
dren and even the very dogs loved ; it was a face 
that could be trusted. His eyes were blue, with an 
open, honest look in them which invited the confidence 
of all who approached him. His nose and mouth 
were large, though well shaped, the latter feature had 
a benevolent expression, and when he smiled his 
whole face became illumined as with a gleam of sun- 
shine, while his white, even teeth showed through his 
heavy, dark brown moustache. His dark chestnut 
hair lay in clustering curls around a high, white brow. 
He was an honest, whole-souled man, one whose pres- 
ence in the army, but especially among the men 
of his own regiment, wrought a good influence. 
All his comrades loved and esteemed him, while 
they disliked and even feared his friend, Dick Mel- 


ton. 


COVET NOT THT NEIGHBOR’S WIFE. 0 

These two men, sz unlike in appearance and char- 
acter. had rather a romantic history. Ernest Van 
Tine’s father had been a gentleman ruined by a com- 
mercial disaster. He had removed from Pittsburg to 
Chambersburg after his failure. The cottage in which 
Ernest Van Tine was born, was but a few feet distant 
from the one in w^ich Dick Melton first saw the 
light of this world. These two boys were nearly oi 
the same age and were brought up side by side, 
attending the same church and school. 

When they arrived at manhood’s maturei years, 
they were both inspired with a tender passion for the 
same girl. Emma Church was one of the prettiest 
maidens in Chambersburg. Her father kept a small 
dry goods store in the town, where Emma assisted 
him ; and a very pretty saleswoman she made. Many 
of the sterner sex walked far out of their way to buy a 
trifle at Church’s store just for the pleasure of having 
pretty Emma Church wait upon them. 

Prior to the breaking out of the war, Dick Melton 
had paid marked attention to the belle of Chambers 
burg, and his handsome person had made an impres 
sion on her heart. Love’s young dream is more often 
fed by the imagination than by the real emotions o r 
the heart, So it had come about that he had beer 
Emma’s accepted lover for more than two months 
before he enlisted in the ioth Artillery. 

When Ernest Van Tine learned that his friend had 
*1 


10 


COVET NOT THY NEIGHBOR 8 WIFE. 


won the heart of the girl whom he also loved, he de- 
termined to conquer his passion, and, if possible, devote 
himself with greater zeal to his country. 

Two months before the Battle of the Wilderness 
Dick Melton obtained a furlough and returned home. 
During his sojourn in Chambersburg, he prevailed 
upon Emma to become his wife. A week after his 
marriage, he rejoined his regiment as his leave of 
absence had expired. He returned in time to partici- 
pate in the Battle of the Wilderness. The slaughter 
on that battle field, was perhaps never equalled in the 
world’s history. Virginia had her soil deeply stained 
with the blood of friend and foe during those dreadful 
days. 

Soon after the battle commenced the woods caught 
fire, and the forest, with its flaming trees, lighted up 
the field of carnage. 

The scene was a realization of Dante’s “ Inferno.” 
The “ Blue ” and the “ Grey ” mingling in a confused 
mass while the dying were consumed by the flames ; 
even the helpless wounded were cremated. Those 
who were able staggered from tree to tree, putting out 
their hands in a dazed sort of way, for the smoke from 
the battle and the burning timber blinded them. 
These poor martyrs groaned aloud in their anguish, as 
their poor scorched hands fell helplessly to their sides. 
Human endurance succumbed to the inevitable, and 
many of these brave men reeled and fainted, overcome 


OOVET NOT THY NEIGHBOR’S WIFE. 11 

by the intense heat of the flames and the torture of 
their undressed wounds. 

One company of determined men tried to fight 
their way through the devouring element and reach a 
safe retreat about a mile distant ; but they were over- 
come by the smoke and fell down suffocated, to be 
burned to a mass of human ashes. 

The ioth Artillery, which had been held in reserve 
by General Burnside during the first day’s fight, were 
stationed about half a mile from this terrible scene of 
carnage and suffering, and not far from the impromptu 
hospital which the surgeons had erected. 

The only accident that occurred to the ioth, was 
from the explosion of a shell which tore the clothes 
from the back of one of the gunners. They watched 
the progress of the battle, and when the shower of 
iron rain fell most rapidly, they joked about their ap- 
proaching end, or at the fate of some comrade as he 
was borne from the field. The finer feelings of men 
become blunted as they grow accustomed to such 
scenes of strife. 

Towards noon on the first day of this great battle, 
Richard Melton suddenly turned to his friend and 
said : “ Ernest, I don’t think I shall answer our roll- 
call again.” 

“ Why Dick, what do you mean ?” 

“ That I have listened to my last reveille,” replied 
the soldier, with a sigh. 


12 


00 YET NOT THY NEIGHBOR’S WIFE. 


“ Cheer up, Dick,” exclaimed Ernest, “we may 
both escape as we have done in many a hard fought 
battle before.” 

But Dick shook his head and said : “ No, Ernest, I 
feel certain my hour has come.” 

“ Nonsense, comrade, you feel depressed seeing so 
many brave men fall.” 

“ No, Ernest, I have a presentiment that this is the 
last battle I shall fight.” 

“Upon my word, I am ashamed of you, Dick. I 
know we are in a pretty queer place, but I believe that 
my Heavenly Father will protect me as He has done 
all through the war.” 

“ Ah, I wish I had your faith, Ernest,” answered his 
friend, with a sigh. 

“Come, cheer up, don’t be downhearted. Why, 
man alive, where’s your pluck ?” 

“ It’s not the want of pluck, my boy, for I am 
ready to do my duty ; but when I think of Emma, 
and feel I may not live to see her again, I must con- 
fess that I feel miserable.” 

“ Tut, tut, man, don’t talk like that.” 

“ I must, Ernest,” replied Dick. “ I want you to 
promise me that if I fall in this battle, and you es- 
cape, you will take a message to my wife.” 

“ I will, Dick, though I hope you will live to be 
your own messenger,” answered Ernest, as he 


COVET NOT THY NEIGHBOR’S WIFE. 


13 


stretched his hand across the gun-carriage v and 
grasped that of his comrade. 

“ Tell my wife, Ernest, when you return to Cham- 
bersburg that I died like a man, and she must not 
mourn for me. She is young and may have a long 
life before her ; tell her to marry some good man, 
who will protect her and make her lif# pleasant. 
Don’t forgot my words, Ernest.” 

“ I will not, Dick. If I should be more fortunate 
than you in this battle, I will faithfully deliver your 
message.” 

“ Thank you,” replied his friend. 

They had no time to say more. At this moment 
one of General Burnside’s aids was seen to leave his 
side and ride rapidly towards Colonel Wentworth, 
who commanded the ioth. He brought an order for 
the regiment to move a short distance further up the 
road, so as to hold in check a Confederate battery 
which had just taken up a position on the opposite 
side of the wood. 

The gallant ioth wheeled around, and in less than 
a quarter of an hour, had taken up its new position. 
As soon as the boys of the 3rd Virginia Artillery saw 
them they gave a wild howl, which was answered by 
a wilder one from the “ Boys in Blue ;” before the 
echo of their cheer had died away an artillery duel 
had begun. 

Dick Melton’s presentiment was realized ; a por- 


14 


COVET NOT THY NEIGH BOk’s WIFE. 


tion of his regiment was captured with their guns. 
Ernest Van Tine could never understand how it was 
that he escaped, but he found himself thrown vio- 
lently backwards into the Union ranks just as he 
caught a glimpse of the gray uniforms in front, and 
with rare presence of mind, he turned caught hold of 
a gun-carriage, and thus saved himself from capture. 
All his endeavors to find his friend were made in 
vain. The woods were burning all around him, and 
amid the volumes of smoke and flame, he could not 
tell friend from foe. On the morning of the third 
day the cool courage of the Federal troops and their 
superior numbers enabled them to regain, in a meas- 
ure, some of their lost ground, though it cost General 
Grant some of his best men. When the roll was 
called there were many, absent from the ranks — they 
had gone to answer the roll-call beyond the borders of 
this world. 

Immediately after the fight, the dead were buried 
and the wounded removed as speedly as possible. 
Ernest, having escaped unhurt, was one of the party 
detailed to remove the wounded. He was quite 
unmanned by the scenes of helpless suffering around 
him. Here he saw a poor Union soldier supporting a 
dying Confederate in his arms. The Northerner was 
holding his canteen to the Southern boy’s lips and 
trying to comfort him in his agony. Some of the 
unfortunate wounded fellows begged not to be 


15 


COVET NOT THY NEIGHBOR’S WIFE. 

moved ; all they desired was a drink to quench thdir 
thirst. 

One of the strangest sights that Earnest Van Tine 
witnessed that day was that of an officer of the 
Federal army, who held in his arms a boy of some 
eighteen summers. They were brothers. The young- 
est had been on a visit to their grand parents in Vir- 
ginia when the war began and had joined his fortunes 
with the South. Tears were streaming down the 
Union soldier’s face as he looked upon his dying 
brother — sons of the same mother. He thought of 
their innocent childhood, and of the mother who had 
taught them to lisp their first prayer, and of her agony 
when she would learn that her youngest son had died 
on the battle-field of the Wilderness. 

Ernest shuddered when he thought of Dick Mel- 
ton’s premonition and remembered his message to his 
wife. He felt that he should indeed be compelled to 
send her the sad tidings of her husband’s death. His 
only hope was that Dick had been captured by the 
Confederates when their company had made the last 
charge. 

After Ernest had removed a number of the 
wounded and rendered all the assistance in his power, 
he joined a company of men who were engaged in 
burying the dead. He looked over their list, but as he 
did not find his friend’s name there he began to feel 


19 


COVET NOT THY NEIGHBOR’S WIFE. 


confident Dick had been captured and was on his way 
to Libby Prison. 

The party had buried nearly a hundred men, and 
as they were returning through the field, they dis- 
covered three dead artillery-men belonging to Van 
Tine’s regiment. They immediately recognized two 
of the bodies, but the third had his head entirely shot 
away, so that recognition was impossible. Ernest put 
his hand into the dead man's jacket pocket, and 
found a letter without an envelope. He shuddered, 
as he saw it was signed “ Emma Melton.” 

“Comrades,” exclaimed Ernest, “this is the body 
of poor Dick Melton ; see, here is a letter from his 
wife.” 

Ere the sun had set over the battle-field of the 
Wilderness, that headless trunk had been consigned 
to a soldier’s grave 


DAWN OF A SECOND LOVE. 


17 


CHAPTER II. 

DAWN OF A SECOND LOVE. 

The war was over. Regiment after regiment 
returned home and were mustered out of service 
The day that the ioth Artillery returned to Chambers- 
burg was an exciting one. The thinned ranks and 
tattered battle-flags spoke volumes to the sad hearts 
of all who had lost either father, brother, or husband. 
Those who did return were eagerly and warmly wel- 
comed for their own sake, and on account of their 
dead comrades. 

These war-stained veterans found their town sadly 
altered in many respects. 

The marks of Early’s Raid were apparent every- 
where. The ruins of the burned buildings, the 
scorched and defaced homes they marched past, sent 
a sharp pang through many a brave man’s heart as he 
gazed on the wreck of what had once been a home. 

There are many of the inhabitants of Chambers- 
burg who remember that July morning when they 
awoke from their slumbers and found the Confed- 
erates in possession of the town. The advance of 

the Confederate army, commanded by General Ewell, 
1 


18 


DAWN OF A SECOND LOVE. 


on the 27th of June, stole down the Blue Ridge under 
the shadows of the night and entered the little city. 

General Ewell had chosen his time to make this 
raid when he knew the Federal forces were employed 
elsewhere and when he believed the two great camps 
of Cameron and Curtin, outside of Harrisburg, were 
comparatively empty of troops. General Ewell cut 
the telegraph wires as soon as he entered the town, 
and placed sentinels near every avenue that led to 
the place, in order to prevent a surprise. This raid 
was made for the purpose of replenishing Southern 
supplies ; they needed food and clothes of every 
description. Accordingly they entered all the stores 
offering Confederate money in payment for their 
purchases. Except in a few instances, however, the 
wretched shop-keepers told the men to help them- 
selves. 

Old Joe Church was one of the few who resisted 
the invaders ; he refused to allow his goods to be 
taken. As his store contained a great many articles 
which the Confederates wanted, the poor, old man, 
owing to this resistance, was very roughly handled. 
Indeed, had it not been for his daughter’s pleading, he 
would have been killed. She told the enemy to take 
what they wanted, but to spa e her father’s life. 

Before the General left Chambersburg, the town 
was fired, and the block on which Church’s store was 
located was entirely destroyed. Joe Church at- 


DAWN OF A SECOND LOVE. 


19 


tempted to save the small remnant of his stock, and 
while thus engaged, he was struck by a falling beam 
and severely injured. In spite of all his daughter’s 
tender care, he died in a few weeks after the raid, and 
Emma was left alone to fight the battle of life. 

The beautiful young widow tried to bear her 
double bereavement as bravely as she could, but it 
was a hard struggle to toil for bread, day after day, 
with a heart overwhelmed by grief. 

Emma sat in a poorly furnished room, in which 
every article was plain and old-fashioned, and yet 
there was an effort to give it an attractive air. On 
the snowy bureau cover stood a glass of water hold- 
ing a bunch of roses. The only window was wide 
open, admitting the sunshine of a hot July day. The 
sound of many voices floated upwards on the air, the 
cheerful talk of the pedestrians, the merry laughter of 
children, the noise of the wagons and their drivers, to 
all of which the young widow paid apparently no 
heed. 

The noise of her sewing-machine could be dis- 
tinctly heard above that of the street, as Emma’s 
swift fingers guided her work towards the needle. 

She was so intent upon completing her task that 
she did not heed the excited cheers of the multitude 
until the sound of martial music made her suddenly 
start from her seat, exclaiming : 

“ It is the ioth.” She went swiftly towards the 


20 


DAWN OF A SECOND LOVE. 


window and leaned out. Her slender, supple figure 
and beautiful face, as the sunbeams fell upon her, 
would have realized either a painter’s dream or poet’s 
fancy. Her features were of the Grecian type, her 
eyes were large and dark, and of that shade of blue- 
black which we so seldom find. Her plentiful dark 
brown hair was simply smoothed away from her 
temples and gathered in a knot at the back of her 
head. Her plain black dress was buttoned to the 
throat ; everything about her was unpretending in the 
extreme, and yet there was in her air and carriage a 
certain distinction not to be concealed by sordid sur- 
roundings. 

Her large, serious eyes turned thoughtfully away 
from the window, and snatching up a black straw hat 
she passed swiftly from the room, down the stairs to 
the street below, just as her husband’s old regiment 
turned the corner of the square and marched past the 
iiuuse. 

That evening Ernest Van Tine called upon his 
friend’s widow. Emma wept unrestrainedly as the 
past rose before her, and as she saw Ernest and thought 
of her young husband’s sad fate, she felt inclined to 
murmur against the will of Providence. She listened 
to Van Tine’s account of the battle in which her hus- 
band had lost his life, and received the message that 
he had brought from the dead. After the first out- 


DAWN OF A SECOND LOVE. 


21 


break of grief she mastered her emotions sufficiently 
to thank Ernest for his kind sympathy. 

A few weeks after the return of her husband’s regi- 
ment, she obtained a position as saleswoman in a dry 
goods store in the town. Her daily life was one of 
toil and weariness. She found her position in a 
stranger’s employ entirely different from what it had 
been in her father’s store, and at times she felt utterly 
miserable. 

Ernest Van Tine had opened a blacksmith’s shop 
in the vicinity of Foster & Co., where Emma was 
employed. At noon, on their way to dinner, he gen- 
erally managed to meet the pretty little widow, and 
have a short conversation with her. If it rained, he 
invariably waited near the door of her place of busi- 
ness with an umbrella. Gradually his attentions 
became more marked. At first Emma felt she had no 
right to receive his addresses. Were not all her 
hopes buried in that distant grave in Virginia? After 
a time, in spite of herself, her thoughts would wander 
towards Ernest ; she was grateful to him for his many 
acts of kindness and his unobtrusive attentions. A 
month passed, and she longed for his presence, and 
counted the hours till her daily task was finished, and 
she was at liberty to take her evening walk, during 
which she was always sure to be overtaken by her 
lover. The image of her dead husband grew fainter 


22 


DAWN OF A SECOND LOVE. 


and fainter every day, and the past began to seem like 
a dream. 

Once in a while she took herself severely to task 
for her inconstancy to the dead, to whose memory she 
had vowed to remain loyal. But Emma had to learn 
that the human heart is a mystery ; and that some of 
our best and noblest impulses, come to us after the 
first flush of impatient and unreasoning youth. She 
had believed in the theory that the heart could know 
only one perfect love, and she felt ashamed of herself 
when she began to realize that she loved Ernest Van 
Tine with a more perfect love than she had ever felt 
for Richard Melton. 

The second love now dawning was a far holier and 
purer love than the other, for it was founded on sin- 
cere respect and admiration for the earnest, devoted 
man, whose only care in life seemed to be to contrib- 
ute to her happiness. 

The wooing progressed slowly and, but for an ac- 
cident, Ernest might have continued to pay silent 
court to his dead friend’s widow for a much longer 
period of time. 

One quiet Sunday afternoon Emma thought she 
would take a short walk. She had felt ill at ease all 
day ; as usual, she had been fighting the battle with- 
in herself, trying to recall the virtues of the dead and 
not to dwell upon the happiness that was, she felt, 
within her grasp. Putting on a broad-brimmed hat, 




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WHAT IS THIS ? P. 23 



DAWN OF A SECOND LOVE 23 

she walked rapdily out of the town towards the valley 
of the Blue Ridge, crossed the bridge and wandered 
on to one of her favorite haunts — a little nook formed 
by a great craggy rock and a group of trees. The 
wood robins usually haunted this spot, but now it was 
strangely silent. 

What is this ? Something flung in a heap — a 
human form, a familiar garb, a face ghastly with pal- 
lor and blood ; a face so well known to her that she 
reeled and uttered a wild shriek. Then her senses 
returned. She felt his pulse and found none. Help 
must be had. Oh, Heaven, grant it may not be too late ! 

She flew down the road to a house where she was 
well known and frightened the occupants by her pale 
face and startling story. Farmer Joyce and his son 
started for the place and a man was sent for Dr. Roberts. 

They placed Ernest on a bed in Mrs. Joyce’s best 
room, while she and Emma anxiously waited for the 
arrival of the physician. When Dr. Roberts examined 
him, he said : “He is not dead.” 

Emma exclaimed : “Thank God !” 

“ It is an ugly wound, and he must have bled con- 
siderably. It was a mercy you found him.” 

“That it was,” said Farmer Joyce, as he entered 
the room. “You see he took Major Pratt’s horse to 
try his hand at taming him and was thrown against 
the rocks. I tell you that beast should be shot ; Van 
Tyne is the third man he has nearly killed.” 


24 


DAWN OF A SECOND LOVE. 


“As I can testify,” said the doctor. “There was 
Jack Hastings, who was laid up two months with a 
broken arm, and Ned Gibbons had just such a wound 
in the head as this poor fellow has. I had hard work 
to pull him through.” 

“I can’t, for the life of me, think what makes the 
men so reckless. I suppose this chap thought because 
he had been in the army he could manage the brute,” 
said the farmer. 

“ Doctor, do you think you can save him ?” 

“ I think so, if Mrs. Melton will stay here and 
nurse him — we all know what a good nurse she is ; be- 
sides, I could not undertake the case without a nurse.” 

Emma replied as calmly as she could that she 
would do all in her power. 

“And I will give her all the help I can.” said Mrs. 
Joyce. 

Dr. Roberts took his departure, after giving a few 
directions, saying that he would call early in the 
morning. The good farmer left the room with the 
doctor. Mrs. Joyce looked at Emma compassionately 
and said : “Will you come down, or shall I send you 
up some hot tea? You look deathly yourself.” 

“ Send me up something, if you please,” was the 
tremulous answer. She wanted nothing but to be 
alone for a little while ; her thoughts were in a strange 
whirl. She leaned over the unconscious man and 
looked at him with tender eyes in which could be read 


DAWN OF A SECOND LOVE. 


25 


the secret she had so carefully guarded, murmuring 
aloud : “ Can it be that he is dead ?” 

Ernest was not dead yet ; his blue eyes unclosed 
slowly at the sound of her voice and looked up inta 
her face with an expression of deep tenderness, while 
his lips curved into a faint smile. For a moment he 
gazed at her as though taking a mute farewell, and 
then relapsed into unconsciousness. 

“Oh, Ernest, Ernest, my darling!” wailed Emma, 
as she wept unrestrainedly. 

For weeks the poor fellow hovered between life 
and death. They were terrible weeks for Emma, who 
rarely permitted anybody to do anything for the 
invalid save herself. Day and night she tended him, 
with the care and devotion which a woman gives only 
to the man she loves. Ernest had grown so thin and 
white that his recovery seemed almost impossible. 
He was a mere shadow of the strong, powerful man 
who was thrown on the rocks. It seemed strange 
that he should have gone unharmed through some of 
the most terrible battles of the war, to be brought so 
dose to death through the trick of a vicious horse. 

One night during his delirium, Ernest imagined 
himself again in the war in Virginia with Dick Mel- 
ton. He raved of the awful Battle of the Wilderness 
and of Dick’s message to his wife. Emma listened to 
him with a beating heart, which throbbed with joy 
when she heard him say : “ Dick, I will take care of 

2 


26 


DAWN OF A SECOND LOVE. 


Emma. I always loved her ; yes, Dick, long before 
she became your wife.” 

“Thank Heaven!” murmured Emma. “Surely 
he will live.” 

She flung herself on her knees and breathed a fer- 
vent prayer to her Heavenly Father for Ernest’s 
recovery and then sat beside the bed in an agony of 
suspense, listening to the clock as it struck hour after 
hour, straining every nerve to watch her patient and 
note the slightest change. 

Dr. Roberts had told her that the next few hours 
would decide Earnest Van Tine’s fate. 

When the physician entered the sick room the next 
morning and felt the patient’s pulse, he turned at once 
to Emma and said : 

“ He is out of danger ; you have saved his life.” 

“ Thank Heaven for all its mercy,” replied Emma, 
solemnly, bowing her head. 

The good doctor thought that Emma was deeply 
interested in his patient ; but he was a wise man and 
ma.de no comment. 

From this time Ernest’s recovery was slow but cer- 
tain. He used silently to watch Emma as she moved 
about the room, anticipating all his wants and one 
day he said to her : 

“ I am deeply grateful to you ; your care has saved 
my life. Emma, I shall be sorry that you did all this 
if you will not take care of yourself. You are beginning 


DAWN OF A SECOND LOVE. 


27 


to look thin and pale ; will you not go and lie down ? 
I can ring for Mrs. Joyce if I want anything.” 

“No, Ernest,” answered Emma; “you are very 
kind, but I do not feel tired.” She looked at the 
clock as she spoke and found it was time to give her 
patient his medicine, so she carefully poured out the 
drops and handed him the glass. Ernest took the 
medicine and, as he handed back the empty glass to 
Emma, he caught her hand and kissed it, exclaiming : 

“You are a noble woman.” 

Emma felt the hot blood rush to her face and 
hastily left the room to avoid showing the agitation she 
felt. After she had gone, Ernest asked himself if he 
had offended her ; this sudden retreat from the room 
alarmed him. The event, however, only strengthened 
his determination to end as soon as possible his sus- 
pense. Besides, he feared that Emma might not 
understand the nature of his love ; she might believe 
it to be only gratitude for the life she had saved. 

When Emma entered the apartment, after a few 
hours' rest, she made a charming picture for the sick 
man’s eyes. She had changed her dark dress for a 
white one ; a dark crimson rose nestled at her throat, 
and a lovely soft flush was in her cheeks. Turning to 
Ernest, she asked : 

“ Shall I bring your supper?” 

“ Not yet, if you please ; come and sit down beside 
me, I have something I wish to say to you.” 


28 


DAWN «)F A SECOND LOVE. 


She took a chair, drew it quietly beside him and 
waited to hear what he had to say. 

“ Emma, thanks to your care, I shall soon be well, 
and I am thinking of going out West to settle.” 

“ You surprise me, Ernest.” 

“ I have thought of going there ever since the war 
closed. It was on your account that I remained here 
so long.” 

“On my account?” 

“Yes, Emma. Before the war, when both Dick and 
I courted you, and he was fortunate enough to win 
you, I tried to bear my disappointment bravely. Now 
that my friend is dead and you are alone, I may con- 
fess to you that I have loved you for years. I was 
afraid to ask you to be my wife sooner on account of 
that distant grave in Virginia. Emma, do not let a 
false kindness influence your answer, if you cannot 
honestly give me the love I covet.” 

Bravely she raised her flushed face to meet his 
anxious eyes. 

“ Why do you wrong yourself and me with such a 
thought? You have all the love that my heart can 
give ; how much that is, I will prove to you when I 
am your wife.” 

With a low “Thank God !” he drew her close to his 
side, whispering : “ My darling, my darling, I will try 
to make you happy !” 


OYER THE PLAINS. 


29 


CHAPTER III. 

OVER THE PLAINS. 

When Ernest Van Tine’s health was fully estab- 
lished, he married the beautiful young widow, and 
left Chambersburg for St. Louis, where they expected 
to join a party of friends and cross the plains. 

The Pacific Railroad had not yet been built, and 
the journey across the continent was one of peril, for 
the Indians disputed the white man’s right to share 
their soil. It was not until the year 1870 that the 
Pacific road was finished, and the isolated valleys and 
mountains brought into direct communication with 
the civilized world. The traveler of to-day cannot 
well understand the sufferings of the early settlers in 
the far West. 

The newly-married couple were as happy as it was 
possible for two people to be. They lingered in St. 
Louis making preparations for the long journey they 
intended to make. At times, Ernest was almost sorry 
that he had brought his wife West. It had been the 
dream of his life to go to the great western country 
and build a home for himself. Now, however, he 


30 


OVER THE PLAINS, 


began to feel that it would be wiser to remain in St. 
Louis, and not expose his wife to the hardships of life 
in a new ana unsettled country. He said something 
of this to her one morning, after he had listened to the 
heart-rending story of the murder of a band of emi- 
grants. 

“ Emma, if you would rather settle here, I will not 
go any farther West. I dread to expose you to the 
perils of such a life.” 

“ I am braver than you suppose, Ernest ; besides 
to save you from years of irksome toil, such as you 
would have to endure here, I would risk any danger.” 

“My darling, you cannot know how happy your 
words make me. It is worth all the suffering and 
misery, all the waiting and doubt of the past, to be 
able to look into the depths of your heart and find 
there such unselfish devotion. All other earthly joys 
sink into nothingness when compared with the bliss 
of such love as yours.” 

“ I am happier than I have ever been in my life, l 
cannot think of enjoying anything without your pres- 
ence. We shall be happy in our new home, Ernest, 
for we shall live for each other.” 

“ God bless you, my wife, for your hopeful words. 
I was ready to abandon this enterprise ; now 1 shall set 
about my preparations with renewed energy. I will 
go at once and call on one of the members of our 


OVER THIS PLAINS. 


31 


party ; I should like to know when the train will leave 
St. Louis.” 

The week following this conversation the husband 
and wife had left St. Louis and were on their way to 
their new home, in company with more than a hun- 
dred emigrants. The train was composed of fifteen 
wagons, representing as many families, most of them 
young married people, anxious to better their condi- 
tion in life. 

Early in the spring of 1867, the train arrived at 
the west bank of the Missouri River, where it halted. 
Most of the men wore the homespun dress of the 
pioneer, though a few were clad in the buckskin suits 
adopted by the hunters and trappers of that region. 
Besides the rifles in their hands, more than half the 
company carried small-arms in their belts ; and, to a 
man, their faces expressed a grim and fierce deter- 
mination. 

A few rods distant from the camp the wagons 
were ranged, some of them filled with supplies for 
the long journey, while others were loaded with sacks 
of grain and farming implements ; near these wagons 
the horses and mules were picketed. The party 
rested here for two days and then continued on their 
way. 

Ernest was pleased to see that his wife bore the 
journey without inconvenience. She appeared rather 
to enjoy the novel mode of travel ; in fact, the firs* 


32 


OVER THE PLAINS. 


month brought them but few hardships. The well- 
watered plains of Nebraska afforded abundant pas- 
turage for the animals, and favorable camping-ground 
for the train. There were no hostile demonstrations 
on the part of the Indians ; while game abounded, and 
good rifles in the hands of the men who knew how to 
use them kept the camp well supplied with the meat 
of bear, deer and antelope. 

It was the first of June when they reached the 
South Pass, a park or mountain valley, many thou- 
sand feet above the level of the sea. Here within 
three hundred yards of each other are two springs. 
One is the source of a little creek that flows eastward 
and joins itself with streams that become tributary to 
the Missouri River, finding thence an outlet by way 
the Gulf of Mexico. The other spring is the head 
waters of a rivulet that widens as the snow on the 
mountains continues to melt, and which, joined by 
the other rivulets in this region, swells until it 
becomes a river, and its waters, by many and divers 
channels, at length reach and mingle with the 
Pacific. 

“Here,” said Jack Wilson to his friend Van Tine, 
“ we leave the East. We follow the waters of this 
stream whose course is towards the setting sun.” 

“ Have you traveled this road before ?” asked Van 
Tine. 

“ Yes ; two years ago I came out here with a party. 


OYER THE PLAINS. 


33 


I wanted to see the country before I brought my 
family out here to settle.” 

“ Do you believe that you will improve your con- 
dition by coming here ?” 

“ I do, my friend ; a man has a chance here to 
make the living that he cannot get in the overcrowded 
cities yonder. Besides, the land is cheap and crops 
are generally large.” 

“Well, I am glad to hear it,” said Van Tine as he 
turned towards the wagon where his wife was resting. 
This lover-husband could not long be separated from 
the woman whom he loved so devotedly. 

Beyond the South Pass, the train made excellent 
time. The weather was everything that could be 
desired, their animals were in good condition ; and, as 
it was yet early in the season, there was no scarcity of 
water or grass. At a few points along the route, the 
Indians had shown some faint signs of hostility ; but 
by the sagacious management of Jack Wilson, who had 
been a scout, all trouble was avoided. 

It was about the middle of July when they reached 
the mountain passes west of the Green River. From 
Fort Bridger the train passed on toward Utah. 

“O, Ernest, what a beautiful country these Mormons 
have chosen!” exclaimed his wife. 

“ It is as fair as a dream of the promised land, if it 
were not cursed by the presence of the Mormons.” 

“You are right, my friend.” said Jack Wilson, who 
2 * 


34 


OYER THE PLAINS. 


overheard this speech. “ I would as soon go amo ng a 
pack of red devils as to fall into the hands of the Mor- 
mons.” 

“ Are they so bad as that ?” 

“ Worse than you ever dreamed of. I tell you poly- 
gamy is barbaric and degrading in its influence.” 

“ Do you believe the stories we hear of the Dani- 
tes ?” 

“ Of course I do. I would not enter that city to 
stay overnight for the best ranch on the Pacific coast.” 

The train was now passing through Echo Canyon, 
a miniature Rhine Valley in all but the ruins of ancient 
castles. The only ruins in it, were those of the feeble 
fortifications which the Mormons had set up, when 
President Buchanan sent an armed force against them. 

The train had now gone as far as the “Bench,” as 
it is called, which overlooks the valley of the Jordan — 
the valley alike of Utah Lake and Great S«lt Lake. 
It is a scene of great natural beauty. To the right, 
upon the plateau, lies Camp Douglass — the home of 
the soldiers, and a village in itself — holding guard 
over the town, and within easy range of the Taber- 
nacle and Tithing-House. Right beneath, in an angle 
of the plain which stretches south to Utah Lake and 
west to Salt Lake, lies the city, which is regularly and 
handsomely laid out with many fine buildings ; thick 
groves of trees and gardens of flowers give it a fairy- 
like aspect. The town is spread over the plain, and is 


C^ER THE PLAINS. 


35 


from five to ten miles in width, including the scattered 
farm-houses with their herds of cattle. No interior 
city of the continent lies in such a field of beauty, or 
possesses such rare, natural formation, or holds such 
guarantees of greatness, martial and social, as does 
Salt Lake City in the good time coming, when Mor- 
monism shall have been extinguished. 

Jack Wilson ordered the train to stop for the night 
at this spot. He intended to go with an armed party 
in the morning to obtain supplies, and would then 
leave Utah. 


36 


Wilson’s assassination. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Wilson's assassination. 

The next morning Wilson drove into Utah with 
three of his friends. They obtained the supplies they 
needed, packed them in the wagon and were about to 
drive back to their companions, when Wilson remem- 
bered that he had promised to purchase a bottle of 
whiskey for one of the men in the train, who was ill, 
and the party walked down the street and entered the 
first tavern they came to. 

There they took a drink, in the meanwhile taking 
in their surroundings. 

The tavern consisted of two rooms. The front one 
used as a bar-room, and the one adjoining as a sleep- 
ing apartment by the proprietor. The bar-room had 
two windows, one near the door. In the corner, by 
the windows at a table, sat a party ot tour men, one 
of them being taller and better-looking than his rough 
companions, whose appearance indicated they be- 
longed to a low grade of society. The tall man 
observed Wilson critically. It was evident by the 
scowl that darkened his brow that the scout’s appear- 
ance did not please him, for he remarked in a loud 


Wilson’s assassination. 


37 


tone of voice, intending that his words should be over- 
heard : 

“ Tom, who is that pilgrim over there with red hair ?” 

“ How do I know, Norris ? Only what my eye-balls 
tell me, that he’s got red hair.” 

“ Do you think they have come here to stay ?” 

“How upon earth can I tell, Brother Norris?” 

The man who had been addressed as Norris leaned 
over and whispered : 

“They belong to the accursed Gentile race which 
we Danites have sworn to punish.” 

He then walked over to Wilson, looked at him 
from head to foot, and said : 

“ What’s your name ?” 

“Plain Jack Wilson; what sort of a handle have 
you to yours ?” 

“ I am known as Richard Norris.” 

“A Mormon, by your looks ?” 

“ Yes ; what have you to say against them ?” 

“ Nothing, my friend, except that you must have a 
lively time with so many wives.” 

“ See here, you must remember that you are in 
Utah ; we don’t allow anyone to speak disrespectfully 
of our religious belief.” 

“Indeed. You must be out of your senses if you 
think a free-born American is afraid to speak his mind 
about your infernal polygamy.” 

k You just let up on that style of talking !” shouted 


38 


Wilson’s assassination. 


Norris ; “it’s very plain that you’re from the East. If 
you say another word, I’ll chuck you out of that win- 
dow there.” 

“ What on earth has that window done that I 
should be chucked through it ?” asked Wilson, calmly. 
Everybody present laughed. That was too much for 
the bully. With a snarl of rage, he sprang at Wilson’s 
throat ; but the scout, with a quick motion of his arm, 
had drawn his knife. 

“ So you can draw a knife, can you,'' shouted the 
Mormon. “That settles it. Get out of this room 
quicker than chain lightning, or you will go out 
with a hole through you.” Norris put his hand to 
his belt but his revolver was not there. He reached 
his hand backward quickly. “Jim Wallace, give me 
your six,” he cried, excitedly. 

“ Pshaw, Norris ; let it go as a joke. If he did 
draw a knife on you, it was not a sign of war,” said the 
Mormon fire-eater’s friend. 

“ That don’t make any difference ; he drew it, and 
thats enough. Come, Wallace, be lively. I’ll bore 
him through the left.” 

The man addressed as Wallace handed over his re* 
volver, but at that moment Wilson said : 

“ I don’t want to interrupt the performance, but I 
would like to remark that I did not come here to be shot 
at ; and though I am a man of peace, I object to having 
my leit lung tickled with lead. /, too, carry a battery .” 



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WILSON o ASSASSINATION. 


39 


The last words Wilson uttered emphatically, and 
putting his hands into his inside pockets, he drew 
out a pair of revolvers. 

One deep breath from the crowd and all looked for 
a tragedy ; but at that moment a dozen “ Boys in 
Blue ” from Camp Douglass entered the room. 

“ What’s the row, landlord ?” asked one of the 
soldiers. 

“ Only a little dispute between Mr. Norris and this 
gentleman.” 

“ Which had better be settled without shooting- 
irons,” said the corporal of the company. “If I am 
not mistaken, ‘ Uncle Sam ’ has a little account to 
settle with Mr. Norris and his Danites.” 

The leader of the Danites handed his friend back his 
revolver and walked coolly out of the tavern, followed 
by his Mormon comrades. 

The corporal looked after them, exclaiming : 

“ Phew ! he’s a cool dog, but I don’t trust him. He 
meant mischief, and if you’ll take a friend’s advice, 
you’ll leave Utah at once, unless you want Norris and 
his * Avenging Angels ’ to settle your account sooner 
than you like.” 

“You don’t mean to say that these men murder 
whom they please?” asked Jack Wilson. 

“ Rather,” replied the corporal, “ and they do it so 
nicely that ‘Uncle Sam' can’t lay his hands on them.” 

** By Jove, this must be a nice place to live in !” 


to WILSON'S ASSASSINATION. 

“ The place is nice enough ; but we think at Camp 
Douglass that we like the Indians to deal with us 
better than we do the Mormons. If you folks belong 
to that train yonder, you’d better get out of these 
parts as soon as possible.” 

Wilson thanked the officer and he and his friends 
entered the wagon and drove rapidly towards the 
train. 

The shadows of night were falling over the earth 
before they left Utah. The travelers were all in good 
spirits. They hoped to reach Nevada, where they in- 
tended to settle, without accident or hardships. They 
went about three miles without seeing any one, when 
suddenly a party of armed men were discovered to be 
approaching. It was moonlight and the faces of the 
men could be seen distinctly. Ernest Van Tine ex- 
claimed, as he caught sight of the leader of the party : 

“In Heaven’s name, who is that man who so much 
resembles Richard Melton ?” 

Jack Wilson answered him : 

“ That is the man I told you about meeting this 
morning. His name is Richard Norris. He is the 
leader of the Danites and the curse of the plains ” 

Just then Mrs. Van Tine uttered a wild shriek. 
Norris, as he had ridden past Wilson, had raised his 
revolver and fired twice ; one of the bullets pierced 
the scout through the heart. 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


41 


CHAPTER V. 

FRIENDS IN NEED# 

The echo of the Mormon’s shots resounded through 
the valley and was heard by Lieutenant King, one of 
the officers of a regiment quartered at Fort Douglass 
He was riding down one of the roads that led to the 
valley, but he quickly turned his nervous, little bay 
horse around, and came loping up through the long 
prairie grass just as the assassin and his comrades 
disappeared in an opposite direction. 

When the officer reached the train, Jack Wilson 
had been lifted out of his wagon and laid on the grass 
beneath a large chestnut tree. His son supported him 
in his arms and endeavored to pour some whiskey 
down his throat, but the dying man could not swallow 
the liquor. 

By a supreme effort, the scout raised himself up a 
moment and tried to speak, but he could not articulate. 
He gasped for breath ; the death-rattle sounded in his 
throat, and an awful ghastliness overspread his coun- 
tenance ; he fell back into his son’s arms as his sp irit 
departed for that unknown shore where the weary 
traveler finds rest from earthly cares. 


42 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


The tears rained down George Wilson’s manly face 
as he gazed on his father’s stiffening form ; for he 
was deeply attached to his brave parent. 

The assassination of the scout had been so sudden 
that, for the moment, the occupants of the train were 
almost paralyzed, for they did not know what to make 
of the murderous attack. Mr. Wilson had been one of 
those honest, brave men, who are to be found as lead- 
ers in all new and dangerous enterprises. 

The sudden assault and quick retreat of the Mor- 
mons prevented any of the emigrants following them. 
The men muttered oaths of vengeance as they looked 
upon the lifeless corpse of their leader ; the women 
wept as they recalled Jack Wilson’s many kindly traits 
of character. 

When Lieutenant King rode up to the train, he 
asked one of the men “ if he knew who the man was 
that fired the shot ?” 

“ No, sir, I do not ; but he looked like a man with 
whom Jack had some words this morning while we 
were in town.” 

‘ Could you identify the man ?” demanded the 
young officer. 

‘'No, sir. I could not swear that he was the Mor- 
mon with whom Jack quarreled in the tavern. There 
were two or three of them there, disput'ng about 
Mormonism, and their ring-leader would have shot 
Jack then, if he had been unaimed.” 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


43 


“ I shall report the shooting of your friend at head- 
quarters. These Mormons ought to be punished, and 
if I had my way, I’d drive them out of the country. 
They are worse than the Indians, and it is a blot on 
our boasted civilization to allow men, who openly defy 
the law, to reside under the protection of our flag,” 
said Lieutenant King, sternly. 

At this moment Ernest Van Tine rushed up to 
the lieutenant, and laid his hand upon the horse’s 
bridle, exclaiming : “ My wife is shot.” 

“ Have these miscreants murdered an unoffending 
woman in their thirst for revenge ? I wish I had the 
power to exterminate every Mormon in the land,” 
said Lieutenant King, hotly. 

“My wife is not dead, but she is wounded in the 
arm. I fear the ball has shattered her elbow. Can 
you inform me where I can find a surgeon ?” 

“ I believe you will find Dr. Hays at the Vaughan 
Farm. He generally rides over once a week to visit 
Mrs. Vaughan, who is an invalid. I shall be pleased to 
conduct you there, if you will accept of my escort, 1 
replied the kind-hearted soldier. 

“ I would gladly accept your kind offer, but my 
wife cannot be left alone,” answered Ernest Van Tine, 
as he looked into Lieutenant King’s blue eyes, with a 
perturbed expression. 

“ Then allow me to suggest that you drive your 
wagon over with your wife to the Vaughsn Farm, 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


44 

where, I can assure you, that you will be most hospit- 
ably received. They are a very nice English family.” 

“Thank you, sir ; I shall gladly follow your advice. 
I will try to make Emma as comfortable as possible 
and join you at once,” replied Ernest, gratefully. 

Lieutenant King rode up to Ernest’s wagon and 
was introduced to Emma, who lay on a mattress, with 
her arm bandaged, moaning with pain. The officer 
expressed his sympathy for Mrs. Van Tine’s misfor- 
tune and then rode on ahead of the wagon. 

A half hour’s slow drive brought the party to the 
gate of the Vaughans. 

Their conductor alighted from his horse, tied his 
bridle-rein to a tree, walked up the graveled path 
leading to the door and knocked loudly. 

Kate Vaughan, a beautiful girl of sixteen summers, 
opened the door in response to his summons. The 
officer inquired if Dr. Hays were there. 

“ He is in the sitting-room talking to mother,” 
answered the girl, blushing, as she felt the admiring 
eyes of the young lieutenant scrutinizing her counte- 
nance. 

“ Please tell him to step here a moment. I have a 
lady in that wagon who is dangerously wounded, and 
her husband is anxious that her arm should be 
attended to at once.” 

“ Please tell the gentleman to bring his wife right 


FKIENDS IN NEED. 


45 


in here. Mother and I will do all we can for the poor 
woman. Who shot her ?” 

“Oh, a party of Mormons were shooting at the 
leader of a band of emigrants, with whom they had a 
quarrel, and one of the balls glanced off and lodged in 
Mrs. Van Tine’s arm. Of course, they will swear it 
was not a Mormon outrage. Miss Kate, you know 
those would-be Saints are never supposed to err,” 
said the young man, bitterly, as he went down the walk 
towards the wagon. 

Kate ran into the house to communicate the news 
to her mother and Dr. Hays. The good physician 
immediately dashed out of the house and ran to the 
wagon to offer his professional aid to the wounded 
woman. 

He and her husband lifted Emma out of the wagon 
and carried her into the farm-house sitting-room, 
where they laid her on the lounge. Mrs. Vaughan 
brought a pillow from an adjacent bedroom and 
placed it under her guest’s head. Kate vied with her 
mother in her endeavors to make Emma comfortable 
as far as circumstances would permit. 

Dr. Hays probed the wound and extracted the ball, 
which, fortunately, had not shattered the bone of the 
sufferer’s left arm. 

Ernest Van Tine was deeply grateful to the skillful 
surgeon, for he now knew his wife’s wound would not 
result fatally, and, owing to the careful treatment, she 


46 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


would not be deprived of the use of her arm in after 
life. 

Aftei Lieutenant King and Dr. Hays had taken 
their departure, Mrs. Vaughan said : 

“ Mr. Van Tine, I hope you and your wife will 
continue to be our guests.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Vaughan; I shall be pleased to 
remain here on my wife’s account until she is able to 
resume our journey,” replied Ernest. 

Emma looked up at her husband as she spoke, and 
gave him a bright smile, in spite of her pain. She 
realized how thoughtful he was of her comfort. 

Kate Vaughan called to the hired man to take Mr. 
Van Tine’s team to the stable, and then she escorted 
Emma to the guest-chamber. 

Mrs. Vaughan, who is a handsome, middle aged 
woman, in spite of her ill health, finding herself alone, 
sobbed as if her heart would break. After some time 
had elapsed, her daughter opened the door softly and 
surprised her mother in the midst of her grief. 

“O, mother ! don’t grieve so. You are killing 
yourself,” said Kate, as she walked towards her. 

“ My darling, I cannot help it. My heart is break- 
ing. Why did I ever leave my dear old English home 
to come to this accursed land ?” cried the unhappy 
woman. 

“ We all thought we should be happier here, dear 
mother, so don’t blame yourself for what you did for 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


47 


the best,” answered Kate, with a weary sigh, as she 
tried to hide the tears in her eyes. 

“ Did your father send us any message back by 
Joe?” 

“ No, dear mother, I questioned the boy. Joe saw 
father while he was in town ; he was busy in his office, 
he said.” 

“ Can this be the man I married twenty years ago ?” 
cried Mrs. Vaughan, passionately, as the indignant 
blood dyed her cheeks. 

“ Kate, your father’s whole nature has changed 
since he joined the Mormon church, and he has grown 
cold and indifferent to me since Alice Courtney’s ar- 
rival. I fear the worse, my child.” 

“ What do you mean, mother ?” questioned Kate, 
turning pale with apprehension. 

“ That this woman will become a Mormon in order 
to be sealed unto him.” 

“ No, no, dear mother. I beg of you not to allow 
such dreadful thoughts to enter your head,” cried the 
young girl, flinging her arms around her mother’s 
neck, as she burst into tears. 

The mother and daughter remained clasped in each 
other’s arm, grieving together as the shadows deep- 
ened on the hills, and the gathering storm of their 
lives was coming to banish. peace and content forever 
from their hearth. 


iS COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. 


CHAPTER VI. 

COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. 

Mr. and Mrs. Van Tine had been Mrs. Vaughan’s 
guests for two days, but as yet they had not seen the 
master of the house. Kate told Emma that her 
father was detained in Salt Lake City by important 
Dusiness. The real reason of her parent’s absence 
Kate did not know, and she dreaded to think of her 
mother’s suspicions being correct. 

While Emma’s wounded arm was healing under 
Dr. Hays’ skillful treatment, her husband was called 
upon to appear at the inquest over Jack Wilson’s 
body. 

Lieutenant King had reported the assassination of 
the scout to his commanding officer, who had sent 
him to the civil authorities in Salt Lake City, with a 
request that they should inquire into the affair. The 
evidence failed to prove that Jack Wilson was 
murdered by the men with whom he had quarreled in 
the drinking saloon prior to his death, because not 
one of the witnesses had recognized the assassin. 

The Mormons were very attentive to the little 
band of emigrants, and sent them a handsome coffi-j 


COMING EVENTS CAST TIIEIK SHADOWS BEFORE. 49 

for the body, by an undertaker, who prepared the 
scout’s remains for the grave. A farmer who resided 
near the scene of the tragedy offered the dead victim’s 
sun a plot of ground to bury his father, and this was 
gratefully accepted. 

It was the safest plan the Mormons could have 
adopted, to treat the little band of Gentiles with 
courtesy, especially when one of their number had 
brutally killed the Gentile leader. This has always 
been the policy of the “ Saints,” to show the best side 
of Mormonism to strangers. They cover crime, and 
will invariably justify their conduct by the preposter- 
ous claim that “ they are doing God’s work.” 

Jack Wilson was laid to rest on the hillside, and 
there was not a dry eye among his comrades as his 
coffin was lowered into the ground. His grave was 
marked by a pile of rocks firmly cemented together 
with clay. It was a fitting monument that his son 
had erected over his head. The rocks were more 
appropriate than a costly marble tombstone ; they 
were fit emblems of the scout’s own rugged nature. 

During his life Jack had been one of the best 
known scouts in the Wild West. His deeds of daring 
and valor were well known on the other side of the 
Rockies, and few men had been more respected or 
feared by the Indians. 

“ Sleep well, fearless heart,” were the heart-felt 
3 


50 COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. 

words of Ernest Van Tine, as he turned gravely and 
sorrowfully from his friend’s grave. 

The day after the funeral the little band of trav- 
elers were to resume their sadly interrupted journey, 
and Ernest Van Tine returned to the Vaughan farm 
to make all the preparations that he could, to insure 
his wife’s comfort. 

Mrs. Vaughan and her daughter vied with each 
other in their generous hospitality to their invalid 
guest. 

The last night Emma was to spend with them had 
arrived. She had retired earlier than usual, as she 
had to leave at sunrise the following morning to join 
the train. Her husband had been obliged to go with 
Mrs. Vaughan’s hired man into Salt Lake City to 
have some medicine put up, also to purchase a heavy 
loose cloak for his wife ; therefore, after Emma had 
bade them good-night, the mother and daughter were 
left alone in the sitting-room. 

They were conversing quietly when they heard 
tho sound of carriage wheels, and a moment after- 
wards a loud rap on the front door resounded 
through the house. Kate took up a lighted lamp and 
hastened to open the door. 

Her father, a fine-looking man of some fifty sum- 
mers, entered and greeted her affectionately. 

" I’ve brought a guest with me, Kate,” said he. 

“ I am always pleased to entertain companyj 


COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. 51 


father. I suppose Joe told you of the two strangers 
to whom we gave shelter.” 

“ Yes, he did, and I am glad that you should prove 
to our Gentile friends that we Mormons can be good 
Christians. Please hold the light up so that Alice 
can see to walk up the path,” said Mr. Vaughan, as 
he was about to return to the conveyance in which he 
had ridden out to his farm. 

“ Who is Alice ?” questioned Kate, as she laid a 
detaining hand on her father’s arm. 

“ Mrs. Courtney, child. She is a sort of cousin to 
your mother; in fact, she is a lady whom I have 
known for many years. She has only been in Utah a 
month, and as your mother is in such poor health I 
thought it would brighten her up a little to invite 
Alice to pay us a visit.” Mr. Vaughan said this in an 
off-hand manner and walked briskly and jauntily 
down the walk to the front gate. 

Kate stood holding the lamp high above her head, 
according to her father’s injunction, at the head of 
the stoop. Her face, from which every particle of 
color had vanished, was a study A presentiment of 
coming evil weighed heavily on her heart. 

Mrs. Alice Courtney was escorted into the house 
by her host, who introduced her cordially to his white- 
faced daughter, and then she was shown into the sit- 
ting-room, where his invalid wife sat propped up by 
cushions in an easy-chair. She was whiter even than 


52 COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. 

Kate, but as the door opened she flushed hotly, and 
as her guest approached her, she tried to rise from 
her chair, but sank back faint and speechless. 

“ My dear, do you not remember your Cousin 
Alice ?” asked her husband, suavely. 

As the light fell on her face, Mrs. Courtney 
appeared to be a slight woman, of about thirty or 
thereabouts, though she was really forty years of age. 
She had a peculiar expression on her pale features, 
and her black eyes flashed as she saw the old repug- 
nant look on the face of her hostess. She walked 
calmly over to the arm-chair where Mrs. Vaughan sat, 
and, kissing her, said in a low, musical voice : 

“ I am pleased, dear cousin, to see you again. I 
hope I don’t intude ; I impulsively accepted your hus- 
band’s invitation.” 

Mrs. Vaughan made no reply, but her daughter 
slipped forward and said : 

“ Mrs. Courtney, my mother is just recovering 
from a very severe illness ; therefore, you will, I am 
sure, understand perfectly that the least excitement 
upsets her greatly. Please come with me. I will 
escort you to yoi.r room, and do all I can to make 
you comfortable.” 

“ Thanks, you are very kind. I shall be glad to 
retire, as I feel very much fatigued. Good-night, 
cousin ; I hope I shall find you in better spirits tO' 
morrow.” 


COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. 53 


* Don’t you want some refreshment, Alice?” asked 
Mr. Vaughan. 

“ No, I thank you, George. We had an excellent 
supper before we left town, you know ; it is not healthy 
to keep up our English habit of late suppers in this 
climate ; at least, so I have been told. I want to 
retain my health, sir; for what is life without a 
robust constitution,” said the unfeeling woman, with 
a curious intonation of her voice, as her black eyes 
snapped out a challenge to the poor invalid, who sat 
gazing at her with a stern expression on her pallid 
face, and bitter pain in her heart. 

The sting of her guest’s parting words still rankled 
in Mrs. Vaughan’s gentle breast, as she raised her 
eyes to her husband’s face, with a mute appeal for 
sympathy. George Vaughan turned his head aside, 
and walked towards the mantel-piece. He was ill at 
ease ; perhaps, for a moment, he despised himself. He 
felt his wife’s eyes were upon his face, searching 
into his very soul. 

Her scrutiny apparently annoyed him, as he turned 
abruptly towards her and said, pettishly : 

“ Sarah, you acted very impolitely to Alice. What 
has the dear little woman done to offend you ?” 

“Why did you bring that woman here? You 
know I never liked her. I was willing to leave Eng- 
land on her account, so that her baneful presence 


54 COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. 

would no longer shadow ray life,” answered Mrs. 
Vaughan, passionately. 

“ Oh, I see you are still absurdly jealous of Alice 
and Mr. Vaughan smiled and shrugged his shoulders 
as he sat down and leaned back in his chair. 

“ If ever any woman had just cause for jealousy, I 
have. Was she not your first love ? Did she not 
coolly throw you over for the rich Henry Courtney ? 
She is a widow now, with very few worldly goods — so 
she comes to Utah to see her old lover. The next 
thing she will do will be to join the Mormon church. 
Pshaw ! I have no respect for such women,” said Mrs. 
Vaughan, bitterly. 

“ You are excited, Sarah, and hardly know what 
you are saying. Alice Courtney is a highly educated 
lady, a woman one seldom meets within this quarter 
of the world. She has been unfortunate ; her husband 
died and left her with a very slender purse, and she 
has come to America to better her circumstances. 
She intends to enter some family as governess.” 

“ Is Utah a place that any refined woman would 
voluntarily choose ?” demanded Mrs. Vaughan. 

“ My dear, all women do not think as you do. We 
have some educated women among us, though I must 
confess they are outnumbered by the uneducated 
ones ; therefore, Mrs. Courtney’s presence is doubly 
welcome. I have invited her here to spend a couple 
of months with us. She can give Kate lessons in 


Coming events cast them? shadows before. 55 

French and music. You know you have always 
deplored our daughter’s want of advantages in this 
out of the way place,” said Mr. Vaughan, in a con- 
ciliatory tone of voice. 

“ I don’t wish Kate to take any lessons from her 
in short, I don’t want that woman under my roof. 1 
know that her conduct broke her husband’s heart. 
She acted disgracefully five years ago in England. 
You know how many scandals her name has been 
associated with. Aunt Milly would not allow her to 
cross her threshold, yet you bring her here as your 
invited guest, and bid me to receive her as a guest, 
to entertain her and ask her to become a governess to 
our innocent child. George Vaughan , I am ashamed of 
you /” cried Mrs. Vaughan, bursting into tears. 

Don’t be a fool, Sarah. Alice is not yet a convert 
to Mormonism, and I could not make her my wife, 
unless she enters my church.” 

“ I hope I am a fool, George, and that my place in 
your heart is not usurped by that woman.” 

“ What infernal nonsense you are talking !” 

He sprang angrily from his chair, and with his 
hands thrust into his trousers’ pockets, strode rapidly 
backward and forward. 

“ Is it nonsense, George ? Oh, prove it to me, and 
I will call myself a poor, deluded fool. I know that I 
am a wretched invalid, and that you have become 
tired of my ailments, and would feel happier if I were 


56 GOMING EVENTS CAST TIIEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. 

gone. Have patience a little while ; your release will 
soon come,” pleaded the sick woman. 

“ Hush, Sarah, don’t talk so. You know that is 
one of the chief beauties of our religion. We Mor- 
mons can always wed another wife ; we do not have 
to wait until a sickly one dies ; therefore, make your 
mind easy on that point. I do not wish for your 
death, in order to wed another.” 

“ Do you mean to tell me, George Vaughan, that 
you intend to wed another woman while I live ?” 
asked his wife, rising and walking unsteadily over to 
where her husband stood. She looked into his face 
with a fierce determination upon every feature of her 
noble countenance, as if she would read his most 
innermost thoughts. 

“Most assuredly I shall wed another. It is the 
duty of every woman to give other wives to her hus- 
band even as Sarah gave Hagar to Abraham.” 

Mrs. Vaughan gazed at her husband with an 
agonized expression, her lips twitched convulsively, 
she put her hand over her heart as if she would still 
its wild throbbings, and then she slowly asked : 

“ George, do you believe plural marriage to be a 
divine commandment?” 

“ I am not a very profound theologian, and I have 
not the time to read the Book of Mormon over and 
over again as you do your Bible, tout I believe that 


COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. 57 

Mormonism is a good, honest faith, and I am willing 
to abide by the tenets of the New Gospel.” 

“ I am not. I cannot believe in a religion that 
enslaves women and makes men brutes. F would 
rather see my daughter in her grave than married to 
a Mormon. Sometimes, when I think of the humble 
English home we had before we came here, it drives 
me mad. You were then a poor man ; but, oh ! you 
were a thousand times more of a man than you are 
now. We had our little ones around us and were 
happy,” said the unhappy woman, wiping the tears 
from her eyes. 

“ I regret the death of my boys as much as you do, 
Sarah, but I would not care to return to the life of 
toil that I had to endure in England,” replied George 
Vaughan, emphatically. 

His wife made no answer, but staggered back to 
her chair, where she fell among the cushions, white 
and exhausted. 

“ I have tried to define my position beyond the 
possibility of a doubt, and when I have found a 
woman whom I wish to make my wife, I intend to 
go through the Endowment House with or without 
your consent. I am frank enough to tell you the 
truth.” 

“You have cruelly deceived me, George Vaughan, 
for you swore when I consented to join the Mormon 
3 * 


58 coming Events cast their shadows before. 

church with you and to leave England, that while 1 
lived you would not take another wife.” 

“ I did not understand the oath I then took, and 
Brigham Young told me yesterday that it was a great- 
er sin to keep such an oath than to break it. That it 
was my duty to take as many wives as I could main- 
tain, and ” — 

He was speaking to an insensible woman. His 
wife had succumbed. She lay back in her chair 
apparently lifeless. Her husband was aldrmed as he 
looked at her and softly called her name : “ Sarah ! 
Sarah ! I have killed her.” He swiftly opened the 
door and called to his daughter. 

Kate came at once, looked at her mother and 
quietly set about restoring her, as she knew it was 
simply a dead faint and did not feel greatly alarmed. 

“ Leave me alone with mother, father, I understand 
her better than you do,” said Kate, silently wiping 
away the tears of sympathy that ran down her cheeks 
as she looked at her mother. 

The Mormon walked out of the room without a 
word just as his miserable wife opened her eyes. 

“O, Kate, Kate, my darling, you are the only 
comfort I have left in the w orld,” and the heart-broken 
woman threw her arms around her daughter’s neck. 

“Mother, dear mother. Try to calm yourself for 
my sake. What would I do without you ! Come with 
me and let me help you to undress. We shall have to 


COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. 59 

sleep together to-night. I have given Mrs. Courtney 
my room as there was no other bedroom to put her 
in. You are too ill to sleep alone, and father will 
have to ofccupy the sofa-bed in here as we are so 
crowded.” 

Mrs. Vaughan yielded to her daughter’s entreaties 
and retired. She was too much exhausted to say or 
do anything more, and soon fell into an uneasy 
slumber. 

Kate sat beside her mother’s bedside, feeling that 
henceforth her life would be but one continued scene 
of warfare, for she detested Mrs. Courtney. She had 
never liked her even as a child, and she dreaded this 
evil woman’s influence over her father. 

Ernest Van Tine returned soon after the two 
women had gone to bed, and met his host for the first 
time. He was glad to become acquainted with 
George Vaughan before his departure. They sat and 
smoked a couple of cigars together before they retired. 

The next morning was one of those bright, clear 
days that are so enjoyable. The Vaughan household 
had risen early to see their guests off, but Kate had to 
apologize at the breakfast-table for her mother’s 
absence. 

Emma was introduced to Mrs. Courtney, and at 
once conceived an intense dislike to her — the reason 
of her unaccountable prejudice she could not define, 
even to herself — and it was with a sinking heart that 


60 COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. 

she took leave of gentle Mrs. Vaughan, and bade her 
beautiful daughter good-by. 

Emma felt as if she would never see them again — 
as if some great avalanche of woe and despair were 
going to overwhelm them. Ah ! if Emma Van Tine 
could have foreseen the future, she would not have 
had the courage to face her own fate. 

She knew it not, but she was destined to meet the 
Vaughan family again. Kate Vaughan’s destiny and 
her own were to be tangled together in such a web as 
fate alone could weave for them. Yes, they were to 
meet again, but providence mercifv lly kept the knowl- 
edge of the future unrevealed to both, as they bade 
each other an affectionate farewell. 


A MORMON WIFE’S TRIAL. 


61 


CHAPTER VII. 

A MORMON WIFE’S TRIAL. 

Three months after Alice Courtney’s arrival in 
Utah, she joined the Mormon church, and was sealed 
unto George Vaughan. Mrs. Vaughan did not submit 
to her lot without a fierce resistance that only yielded 
when she was convinced that nothing could ameliorate 
her terrible position as a Mormon wife, but she swore 
henceforth she would be a wife in name only. She felt 
that her husband was dead to her, and literally 
mourned for him with the greatest anguish, greater 
even than if she had stood over his coffin. 

The day she parted from her husband, he was sealed 
to her rival, and the wretched woman lay all day 
mourning and bewailing her unhappy fate. 

Alas ! a loving woman suffers oftentimes far more 
keenly from a lost love than from any other affliction. 
Men seem to wound such hearts, as it were, for sheer 
amusement, thought this sorely troubled wife, as she 
murmured : “Oh, why did I ever trust this man ?” 

The next day, she arose, determined if possible to 
make a supreme effort to battle with her feelings, for 
her daughter’s sake, and if possible, to find some 


(52 


A MORMON WIFE’S TRIAL. 


means to escape from Utah. She sent for Dr. Hays, 
feeling that she needed some strong counsel. 

The good physician when he called was shocked to 
see the change which a few days had wrought in Mrs. 
Vaughan’s appearance. She looked like a woman who 
had been stricken by some awful calamity. Her hair 
had become white — there were rigid lines about her 
mouth and under her eyes — she looked at least twenty 
years older. The hand which she extended to Dr. 
Hays, in greeting, trembled perceptibly. At first she 
spoke in a hoarse whisper. 

“ Doctor, I sent for you because I am in a great 
deal of trouble, and I have neither friends nor rela- 
tives in this country to advise me. I have lost my 
husband.” 

“ My dear Madam, I am truly sorry to hear of your 
affliction. I was not aware that Mr. Vaughan was 
even ill,” replied the physician, gravely. 

“ Doctor, you have misunderstood me. My hus- 
band is alive, but he is dead to me. He has married 
another woman.” 

“ I deeply sympathize with you in your great trial. 
I have seen so much of this wretchedness in Mormon 
homes since our regiment has been stationed at Furt 
Douglass. I am astonished when I hear that a man 
so intelligent, as I know George Vaughan to be, is a 
polygamist.” 

“ But what can I do ? I have been asking myself 


A MORMON WIFE’S TRIAL. 


63 


this question over and over again,” questioned the 
poor woman, as she nervously clasped her hands and 
raised her eyes with such an imploring expression that 
their mute appeal touched Dr. Hays’ heart even 
more than her words. 

She did, indeed, have his deepest sympathy, as he 
had already told her, but he felt it would be cruel to 
deceive her with any false hope, and resolved to tell 
her the pitiless truth. His good judgment told him 
that ;t % would wound her less to hear it from his lips 
than if she were to have the facts brutally told her by 
her Mormon husband. 

He began by saying: “You have asked me a 
question that I really do not know how to answer. 
You might leave Utah.” 

That is my heartfelt wish. I desire to take my 
daughter away from the contaminating influences of 
Mormonism, and, if possible, to save her from my own 
unhappy fate,” replied Mrs. Vaughan, with great tears 
in her eyes. 

“ My friend, I am sorry to inform you that you 
cannot leave Utah. You could not take your daugh- 
ter with you, even if you went yourself.” 

“Why, Doctor, what do you mean?” demanded 
Mrs. Vaughan, in deep perplexity. 

“ That under the accursed laws of this territory, 
you cannot take your child away from her father.” 

Mrs. Vaughan uttered a faint cry and all the color 


04 


A MORMON WIFE 7 8 TRIAL. 


faded from her face as she pressed a trembling hand 
over her heart. 

“ My dear Mrs. Vaughan, I am very much afraid 
you have not drained this cup to its bitterest 
dregs yet. You are an invalid and unable to fight 
with poverty, and Kate is too young to become a suc- 
cessful bread-winner for you. The child could hardly 
earn enough in a store, or at any other employment, 
to keep body and soul together; therefore, I would not 
advise you to leave your husband, even if you # could.” 

“ Could I not compel him to provide for us ?” 

“ No, Madam. Under the laws of Utah, a wife has 
no right of dower, consequently, when she displeases 
her husband, he can sell the house in which she lives 
or deed it to a plural wife, and turn her into the 
street.” 

“Doctor, then 1 am helpless,” said Mrs.Vaughan, 
as she burst into tears. 

“ Entirely at the mercy of your husband.” 

“ Oh, that I should have lived to endure this 
outrage!” exclaimed the injured woman. “I have 
been this man’s faithful wife twenty years. I have 
cheerfully endured poverty with him, shared his bur- 
dens, and given up my relatives in England to follow 
his fortunes here — for what ? I am shattered in 
health, and a premat ire old woman — he deserts me 
for a woman who has always been, I might say, the 
curse of my married life.” 


A MORMON WIFE’S TRIAL. 


65 


“Was Mr, Vaughan acquainted with this lady, 
whom he has just married, in England ?” asked Dr. 
Hays. 

“Yes. Alice Courtney was an old sweetheart of 
my husband. At one time they were engaged to be 
married, but Alice jilted my husband for the wealthy 
Henry Courtney. She treated him with absolute 
indifference, squandered his money, and finally drove 
her husband to despair by her conduct. She is a 
woman without a particle of real refinement, though 
exceedingly fascinating in her manners. She knew 
her presence was utterly distasteful to me, but, never- 
theless, made herself a frequent guest at my house. 
My husband dined regularly twice a week with Mr. 
and Mrs. Courtney for years ; in fact, she poisoned my 
domestic happiness to such a degree that on her 
account I was glad to leave England, especially as I 
knew her behavior had been severely commented upon 
by our friends, to whom I was an object of pity. 

“Henry Courtney finally committed suicide two 
years ago and left his widow with very limited means. 
This is the reason why she came to Utah and joined 
the Mormon church, because she desired to be 
sealed unto her former lover,” said Mrs. Vaughan, 
bitterly, as the indignant blood crimsoned her cheeks. 

“ You have given me a sorry history of your past, 
and, believe me, my heart bleeds for you. As an 
American citizen I blush to think we should ever have 

4 


66 


A MORMON WIFE’S TRIAL. 


allowed Mormonism to take root and flourish in our 
soil. We used to abuse slavery, but there is no form 
of servitude so vile as that which the women of this 
territory suffer from. I cannot understand the apathy 
with which Americans regard Mormonism. I suppose 
the horrors of the system do not violently appeal to 
the voting portion of the community. I do most cer- 
tainly know that the outside world’s knowledge of 
Mormon life and character falls far short of the 
truth,” said Dr. Hays, gloomily. 

Miss Vaughan came in the room just as this pain- 
ful conversation was ended. The surgeon arose, 
shook hands with his patient and walked out of the 
chamber, followed by Kate, who was anxious to speak 
to him. 

“ I was very much alarmed about my mother, last 
night, Doctor !” 

“ I am very sorry, Kate, that both of you are in so 
much trouble, but, my child, put your trust in God 
and endeavor to bear your burden. I have left some 
medicine on the table, with written directions how to 
administer it, and I will drive over to-morrow with 
my wife to see your mother.” 

“ Thank you, Doctor.” Kate could hardly speak. 
It was as much as she could do to keep from sobbing 
outright, so she hastily turned and walked down the 
pathway leading to the gate. The doctor shook 
hands with her there, warmly, and said to her : 


A MORMON WIFE’S TRIAL. 


67 


“If you see any change in your mother, send for 
me, my child. She has had a great shock, which, in 
her weak condition, may lead to fatal results.” 

“ O, Doctor, what do you fear?” asked the start- 
led girl in alarm. 

“ Insanity,” was his laconic reply, as he sprang 
upon his horse and rode swiftly out of sight. 

Kate did not move; she stood, with a horror- 
stricken face, looking after the physician’s fast 
retreating figure. Her hands were clenched as she 
unconsciously prayed aloud: 

“ O, Merciful Father, spare my mother her rea- 
son!” 


68 


THE THREE 8TRANGER8. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE THREE STRANGERS. 

Before the door of the Ballo d’Oro Hotel, in the 
City of Los Angeles, was standing the Los Angeles 
and Yuma coach. It was a heavily-built affair, drawn 
by a splendid team of six mules. The body of the 
stage was swung on heavy leather underbraces, and 
had the thick “ perches jacks ” and brakes belonging 
to such a vehicle. It had a large leather boot behind, 
and another at the driver’s foot-board. The coach 
was intended to seat twenty-one passengers — the 
driver and two men beside him, twelve inside, and six 
on top. 

Charley Davis, the driver, stood by the door of the 
stage, shouting “ all aboard ” at the top of his voice. 
He was a tall, powerful, well-built man, with broad 
shoulders, an honest, open countenance, dark gray 
eyes that lighted up a face which otherwise would 
have been a plain one. This man was known all over 
the plains as “ Honest Charley,” and he deserved the 
name — for he believed in fair play. Brave to a fault, 
he had brought his stage safely through several 
attacks made on it by the bandits of the plains. 

On the occasion of the first attack he had seized 


THE THREE STRANGERS. 


69 


his reins and driven his team through the ranks of the 
robbers, escaping with his passengers and mail, and 
reaching Greely Station in safety. One of the most 
terrible raids was made by the Sioux Indians. This 
assault was successfully repelled, although two mules 
were killed. Again the bandits lay in ambush for the 
coach, knowing that it contained several commercial 
travelers. This time a Mr. King, of San Francisco, 
was killed, and a fellow-traveler shot through the 
shoulder. 

After this stormy period, “ Davis’ Coach,” as it 
was called, was fitted up as a treasure coach, and 
naturally became an object of renewed interest to the 
robbers. Owing, h'owever, to a strong force of what 
was known as “shot-gun messengers,” who accom- 
panied the stage, it was a long time before the ban- 
dits accomplished their purpose. They were old 
fighters, and the shrewdness of one party offset that 
of tiie other. The bandits dug a large ditch, coveted 
it with sticks and dry leaves, and, hiding themselves 
behind the trees, awaited the approaching coach, which 
was due about midnight. The plot was a successful 
one. The robbers fired into the coach, killing several 
of the passengers and capturing the outfit, which 
amounted to some sixty thousand dollars. However, 
Davis prevailed upon them to let him proceed on his 
way, thus saving the stage and several of the passen- 
gers. 


70 


THE THREE STRANGERS. 


After this Davis secured the coach, and ran it 
between Los Angeles and Yuma on his own account. 
We now meet him, standing before the only respectable 
hotel in Los Angeles, in 1866. 

He again called “all aboard ” somewhat impatient- 
ly. Several passengers responded to his call. First 
came two miners, bound homeward, with leather bags 
well filled with California gold dust. A tall, dignified 
army officer was the next passenger who entered the 
coach. He was the paymaster of the Artillery Com- 
pany stationed at Fort Yuma, whither he was now 
going to pay off the men. He carried the funds in a 
bag slung over his left shoulder in order to leave his 
arms free to protect the treasure. Next came three 
men who had been known about the hotel as the 
“ Three Strangers.” They appeared quiet enough, but 
they had that unmistakable air about them of people 
who were playing a part. They had spent several weeks 
at the Ballo d’ Oro, were always together, and appeared 
upon familiar terms, addressing each other as Hank, 
Scotty and Joe. They spoke to no one else, visited 
nowhere, and seemed to be strangers in Los Angeles. 
Their quiet, silent habits attracted attention, and as they 
were not known, they had acquired, both in and out 
of the hotel, the above sobriquet of “ The Three 
Strangers.” 

Hank was a tall man, with regular features, dark 
hair and eyes, and would have been handsome but for 


THE THREE STRANGERS. 


71 


the cruel expression of his mouth. He was rather 
reserved, seldom speaking unless he was directly 
addressed. He might have been termed the gentle- 
man of the trio. 

Scotty was his direct opposite. He was not more 
than five feet seven in height, but very straight. In 
disposition he appeared to be rather cheerful, for he 
had a merr}?' twinkle in his blue eyes ; his complexion 
was fair, and upon the whole he was a fine-looking man. 

Joe was decidedly ugly. His face was deeply 
pitted with small-pox scars ; the sight of one of his 
eyes was totally gone, destroyed by the same foul dis- 
ease. His features were coarse, and the expression of 
his face forbidding, and he seldom spoke ; in fact, he 
appeared always to have his mouth filled with tobacco. 
He certainly was not an agreeable companion ; yet he 
seemed to find favor in the eyes of Hank and Scotty. 
A nervous or sensitive person would have instinctively 
shrunk from close companionship with these three 
unknown men. 

Scotty winked at Hank as he glanced at the treas- 
ure chest, and gave a keen look at the paymaster’s 
bag, as much as to say that the prizes which they had 
waited for were within their reach. 

The last two passengers who entered the coach 
were an elderly gentleman and his handsome young 
wife. The gentleman was a rich Californian, who was 
an extensive owner in a number of mines, and was on 


72 


THE THREE STRANGERS. 


his way to look after business connected with them, 
and he also intended to visit an old friend, who re- 
sided in that part of the country.. He was a quiet, 
dignified man, with graceful manners and a good, 
kindly face, which was framed in by locks as white as 
the newly-fallen snow. Dark and brilliant eyes made 
his face a decidedly handsome one. His wife was one 
of the most beautiful women to be met with anywhere ; 
any man of taste would have stopped to admire that 
perfect face, just as he would have stopped to admire 
a fine and beautiful picture. The outline of her face 
was a pure oval, and her features, small but beautifully 
moulded, were lighted by large, dark, lustrous eyes. 
This perfect face was crowned by hair the shade of 
burnished gold — the shade for which Rubens is so 
famous — and fell in curls over a lovely neck and 
shoulders. Her figure was small, but of the most 
perfect proportions. 

The lady attracted the attention of all the other 
passengers when she entered the coach. Her husband 
made her as comfortable as possible, and then settled 
himself in a corner of the coach to take a much-needed 
nap. 

The driver mounted his seat, and, at the crack of 
his whip, the mules started the lumbering coach down 
the main street. In a short time they had reached the 
outskirts of the town, passed the “ Old Limestone ” 
edifice and the orange groves of ex-Governor Pio 


THE THREE STRANGERS. 


73 


Pico, on the road, and had reached the alkali desert 
that separates San Bonaventure from the Yuma 
River. In the old staging days they were obliged to 
pass through the Big Desert — which is forty miles in 
extent — without a single tree to break the monotony of 
the scene ; like some of the dry, barren plains that 
lead up to the Rocky Mountains on the east. 

In passing through this region the traveler finds it 
hard to imagine what its use can be, unless, possi- 
bly, it is to teach him patience, or, more probably, to 
hold the globe together, and to keep close locked in 
its mountain ranges the rich mineral treasures which 
the world does not need, or is not ready to use. It is 
indeed a dreary desert, without water, or vegetation 
—save the stunted sage bush. The blinding alkali 
dust does not add to the attractiveness of the 
region. 

No living thing could be seen as the stage drove 
on, and an occasional crack of the driver’s whip and 
his startling yells to his mules were the only sounds 
that could be heard. Almost primeval silence 
reigned, and one might have fancied one’s self to be 
traveling on some burned-out planet instead of our 
beautiful world. 

The half-way station was known as “The New 
River,” so called because a river had sprung up in this 
arid plain in a night. This discovery had been made 
by a party of emigrants from Texas, bound for Cali- 
4 


74 


THE 1HREE STRANGERS. 


fornia, who, after leaving the Colorado River, ex 
pected to find no fresh water until they reached San 
Bonaventure Creek. Imagine their joy, when they 
were about to encamp for the night, to find a beauti- 
ful clear stream of water instead of the dry creek 
which was known to exist in the vicinity. A United 
States surveying party reported the facts in Washing- 
ton, and it was thought that this stream was the 
subterranean outlet of one of the tributaries of the 
Colorado. 

Davis stopped at the half-way station for break- 
fast, which consisted of bacon and biscuits, washed 
down with black coffee. Soon the welcome sound of 
“all aboard” was heard again, and the passengers 
hurried into the coach. 

As the three unknown men were about to enter 
the stage, Joe remarked in an undertone to Scotty : 

“ If resistance is made, all except the woman must 
die.” 

The three men evidently meant mischief. Joe was 
about to take the box-seat next to the driver. He had 
paid extra for it, and his name was on the way-bill, 
but until now he had preferred to ride inside. Char- 
ley Davis eyed Joe from head to foot when he claimed 
his seat : 

“ You'd better charter the whole shebang. Look 
yar, do you reckon I’m going to spoil my temper by 
sitting next to a man with a game eye ? ' 






A PARTY OF IIORSEMEN WERE RIDING TOWARDS THEM. P. 75 



THE THREE STRANGERS. 


75 


“I paid my money and I'm entitled to this seat,” 
replied Joe, with a scowl. 

“ Mebbe you are, in the office of the company,” 
growled Davis, “ but it’s time some folks knowed that 
out in the plains I run this team myself.” 

Joe looked the vengeance he felt, and said : 

“Scotty, perhaps your company would suit him 
better.” 

“ Hold your hosses. I’ll take him in your place ; 
and I reckon he and I can smoke a cigar together 
without any assistance from you. So get up here, 
stranger, if I’m goin’ to have the pleasure of your com- 
pany.” 

Scotty smiled and mounted the seat beside Davis, 
and in five minutes’ time they were the best of friends. 
The coach went along at a rapid pace, and no incident 
occurred until the afternoon, when a cloud of dust 
was seen to rise in the direction of the Yuma River, and 
before long it was discovered that a party of horse- 
men were riding towards them. 

“ Thunderation !” exclaimed Davis, pointing to the 
horsemen, who now rode up and surrounded the coach. 

One of the party, who wore his hair long and had 
a broad white hat pulled down over his forehead and 
who appeared to be the leader of the gang, cried • 
“ Halt.” 

Davis was about to make an attempt to drive 
through and take his chances, when he was surprised 


76 THE THREE STRANGERS. 

by Scotty, who held a revolver to his head, and said, 
coolly : “ Surrender.” 

“ Trapped, by Jupiter,” cried Davis, as he pulled 
up his team, crossed one leg over the other, and 
awaited the result. 

The leader of the robbers — for such they were — 
as well as the rest of the band, wore black silk masks. 
The leader called to Davis . 

“ Throw down your reins ; hold up your hands.” 

“Wait a moment, stranger ; I would like to have 
my passengers vote on the subject. If they say fight, 
wal, fight it is.” 

Scotty whispered to Davis : 

“ Don’t be a fool. I shall have to blow out your brains 
if you don’t surrender, and I don’t want to do that.” 

“Ah, I forgot ; you are one of them. You looked 
like an honest man. I suppose the game is up. I 
submit,” and he let the reins fall and folded his arms 
again, feeling that he was powerless to contend 
against such an armed force. 

The leader approached the coach and said : 

“My friends, I will justgive you two minutes to make 
up your minds whether you will quietly yield, or whether 
you will fight. If the former step is taken, lay down 
your arms and your lives will be spared; if not, take the 
consequences. You had better throw up your hands.” 

A hasty consultation was held within the coach. 
Madam Velasquez, the rich Californian’s wife cried : 


THE THREE STRANGERS. 


77 


“ Yield ; let them take everything but our lives !” 

“ Never !” exclaimed the paymaster, who had 
eighteen thousand dollars upon his person. The two 
Mexicans, when appealed to, only answered, “ quien 
sabe /” They seemed quite dazed by the suddenness of 
the attack. The old paymaster raised his pistol and said 
to the others : 

“I’ll shoot the leader. You had better all open 
fire on the band at once.” 

As he was about to fire Joe knocked the pistol out 
of his hand, and Hank tried to seize Senor Velas- 
quez’s pistol, which was discharged in the struggle. 
The robbers, thinking that resistance had been of- 
fered, rushed to the aid of their friends in the coach, 
and, firing upon the passengers, killed outright the two 
Mexican miners, the paymaster and Sefior Velasquez. 
Charley Davis jumped down when he heard the firing, 
but was quickly disarmed by Scotty and tied to one 
of the wheels of the coach for safety. Madam Velas- 
quez, who had fainted at the commencement of tht 
attack, was taken out of the coach by one of the band 
and carried some distance, and a shelter raised over 
her head, to protect her from the murderous rays of 
the sun. The mules were unharmed. 

The beauty of this lady must have made a deep 
impression upon the bandit, for he stood looking down 
upon her beautiful face, lost in admiration. After a 


78 


THE THREE STRANGERS. 


moment he roused himself, with an effort, and tried t« 
revive his captive. 

In the meantime the rest of the band had broken 
open the treasure chest, and rifled it of its valuable 
contents. The bodies of the dead were also examined 
and all their valuables taken possession of ; the band 
then dragged their victims some distance from the 
scene of the assault and left them unburied, first plac- 
ing a few Indian trinkets and a broken tomahawk 
stained with blood beside them. By this means they 
hoped to give the impression to any traveler passing 
that way that it was the work of the “red devils.” 
These precautions were hardly necessary, for the vul- 
tures, when they sniffed the air, would soon be on the 
spot and devour the unburied dead — the unfortunate 
victims of the stage-coach murder. The little bit of 
earth that the robbers grudged the dead did not make 
any difference; their earthly joys and sorrows were over. 

The leader of the band now asked what should be 
done with the survivors. The robbers voted death ; 
but Scotty said : 

“ I vote to let Charley Davis go. All the boys 
have given him his liberty whenever he has been 
captured before ; and it hasn’t been often that we 
have caged him.” Joe wanted to lynch him on the 
spot ; he had not forgotten that Davis had shown his 
dislike for him that morning. Scotty’s argument pre- 
vailed, however, and it was resolved to make Davis 


THE THREE STRANGERS. 


70 


take a fearful oath, which he very coolly did. Scotty 
then gave him a small sum of money and a mule ; and 
Charley Davis, with a sad heart, took a farewell look 
at the old coach which he had driven in sunshine and 
storm for so many years. Turning his face toward 
Los Angeles, he set out on his homeward journey. 

The bandit who had taken Madam Velasquez 
under his protection pleaded so hard for her life, that 
the band granted his request ; particularly, as he was 
willing to give up his share of the spoil for the sake 
of the fair prisoner’s safety. 

The band then started northwest, richer by thirty 
thousand dollars. Madam Velasquez rode between 
the captain and his lieutenant, to whom she owed 
her life. 


80 


THE ESCAPE. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE ESCAPE. 

It was dark when the band arrived with their 
spoils and their captive at a mountain cave which was 
evidently their lair, and where they had tolerably 
comfortably quarters. Wine and food were set before 
Madam Velasquez. Of the latter she did not par- 
take ; she could only drink a little wine. Her heart 
was sad ; she had lost her best friend. Her husband, 
though a great deal older than herself, had always 
been kind and affectionate, and she was terribly 
shocked by his tragic death. 

The leader of the band called Pepita, a beautiful 
Mexican girl, to take their captive to the room pre- 
pared for her. He made a sign to Pepita, which she 
answered by a few rapid motions of her fingers. 
Madam Velasquez gazed at the girl, who, she could 
readily see, was a mute, with eyes full of pity ; turn- 
ing to the chief, who was about to leave her with 
Pepita, she said : 

“ Will you kindly tell me, Senor, what my fate is 
to be ?” 

Matteo looked with surprise and admiration on his 


THE ESCAPE. 


81 


prisoner, who could so calmly ask him such a question. 
He answered : 

“ Senora, the band will decide that question this 
evening. I would gladly give you your liberty at 
once ; but I cannot do so without the consent of my 
followers.” 

“ Tell your band,” the lady replied, “ to name the 
amount of my ransom and I will write an order to my 
bankers in San Francisco to forward you the amount, 
or to give it to your messenger if you will send one 
with a letter.” 

“ I will tell the band to name your ransom, 
Madam. Show the Senora every attention,” he said 
to the pool girl in the language which she could 
comprehend. Pepita nodded her head as if she 
understood, and Matteo, bowing politely to Madam 
Velasquez, entered another recess within the cave. 

Pepita made a sign to Madam Velasquez to follow 
her to a small, comfortably furnished chamber, but its 
grated window gave it the look of a cell, which, in 
fact, it was. Pepita then arranged the bed and 
placed a small lighted lamp on the table, bowed 
respectfully and left the apartment. As soon as tne 
door had closed on the girl, Madam made her way to 
it and found it locked. She threw herself on the bed 
and covered her face with her hands. 

“ In a prison cell,” she moaned, “ and my husband 
dead there out on the plain. O, my husband, my , 


5 


82 


THE ESCAPE. 


husband, can yofl. look down and see your wife in her 
despair ?” Poor woman. She was not the first to 
ask that despairing question, which will never be 
answered on this side of the grave. At last sleep came 
to her weary eyelids — the deep sleep of exhaustion. 

The band were gathered around a well-spread 
board in the largest apartment that the cave boasted. 
The wine flowed freely, and the bandits were evi- 
dently enjoying their rude supper. Pepita silently 
waited on the chief ; the rest of the party helped 
themselves. They were a strange-looking set of men, 
seen by the light of the two lamps which burned on 
the table and cast its rays on their faces. A rough, 
coarse gang of outlaws they looked, with the excep- 
tion of Matteo, the leader, who was a handsome Mex- 
ican, and his lieutenant, who looked like an American 
army officer — his erect, soldier-like bearing gave that 
impression. He would have been an extremely hand- 
some man, but for a sabre cut across his left cheek. 

Matteo said to his lieutenant : “ Norris, our fair 

prisoner wants us to name her ransom. She is in a 
measure your property, being your share of the spoil ; 
how much shall it be ?” 

“ I do not know, Captain. Is she rich ?” 

“She is now one of the richest widows in Cali- 
fornia, thanks to the bullet that sent Sefior Velasquez 
into the other world,” replied Matteo, with a cruel 
smile. 


THE ESCAPE. 


83 


“And one of the most beautiful women in the 
world,” exclaimed Norris, enthusiastically. 

“Ah, I see you have good taste, my friend. How 
would you like to marry the charming widow ?” 

“ I should be delighted.” 

“Well, suppose we let you have the lady and half 
her fortune ; the other half to be divided with the 
band ?” 

“ The Sefiora will never consent. I am a stranger, 
and ” — 

“ She might object to your profession, eh ?” 

“ Without doubt, my Captain,” calmly replied the 
lieutenant. 

“We will hear what the lady says to-morrow. I 
shall recommend you to her. We all know that Amer- 
icans make the best husbands in the world,” replied 
Matteo. 

He filled his glass and gave the toast : 

“ Success to our enterprise.” 

The next morning the door of Madam Velasquez’s 
cell slowly opened and Pepita entered with a tray con- 
taining black coffee and bread. She set the tray on 
a stand near the bed, and was turning away when 
Madam Velasquez detained her : 

“Tell your master I want to see him,” she said. 

Pepita shook her head and slowly left the room. 

Madam Velasquez then recollected that the girl 
was a mute, and did not, therefore, understand her. 






84 


THE ESCAPE. 


The breakfast was not tempting. She threw herself 
back on the bed and wept until the fountain of her 
tears seemed dry. 

At noon another meal was brought to her, but she 
could not touch the food. After a time, by the shad- 
ows which lengthened in the room, she knew that the 
night had come ; and kneeling down by her iron cot 
she prayed, as she had done through all her pure life, be- 
fore retiring ; prayed for protection and pity. Then she 
lay down on her cot, and, in spite of her trouble, fell 
asleep. 

It was morning when she awoke. Some one had 
entered her cell and brought her a second breakfast of 
coffee and bread. She was weak and faint, and she 
tried to eat a morsel of the foodi, but it was impossible 
to do so. At last she sat down and began to count 
the moments. 

By this time the unhappy woman was almost in- 
sane. Faint and weak from want of proper nourish- 
ment, and also from cne intense excitement of the last 
few days, she crouched in a corner of the cell, her 
white hands folded listlessly, trying to face the horrors 
of the situation. On the third day of her imprison- 
ment, while she was sitting thus, Matteo entered the 
cell. 

“ I am sorry, Madam,” said he, with a wicked smile 
on his sinister face, “ "hat business of importance pre* 


THE ESCAPE. 85 

vented me from calling on you sooner. The baud, 
my dear lady, will not accept a ransom.” 

Madam Velasquez looked at him with blazing eyes. 
Weak and worn, though she was, the old spirit still 
lived. 

“ Not accept a ransom, Sefior ?” she questioned. 

“ No, Madam ; you see my lieutenant, Dick Norris 
saved your life and he claims you.” 

“ Claims me !” exclaimed Madam Velasquez, her 
eyes dilating with horror. 

“Yes, Madam; he wishes to marry you. I can 
assure you that your beauty has made a deep impres- 
sion upon his heart.” 

“ Senor, how dare you utter such words to me ! 
You murdered my poor husband and now you ask me 
to wed one of his murderers ! Father in Heaven ! 
was ever such infamy heaped upon a poor woman ?” 

“ Come, come, Madam, do not let your angry pas- 
sions rise,” coolly responded Matteo. “ Remember 
that you are in our power, and unless you consent to 
wed Norris you will never leave this cave alive.” 

“Go !” commanded Madam Velasquez, pointing to 
the door. 

44 Then you will not consent ?” 

“ I refuse, absolutely and unalterably !” and her 
clear voice rang out scornfully as she reiterated : “ II 

one refusal is not enough, tell him no — a thousand 


86 


THE ESCAPE. 


times no! I would welcome death at any moment 
rather than the horrible fate of being his wife.” 

“ Well, Madam, you are very foolish,” replied the 
leader of the band; “for as surely as you stand there 
you shall be his wife or die !” 

“ I can die,” responded the lady, bravely. “ I am 
not afraid ! Only cowards and guilty criminals like 
yourself fear death. Do your worst, brave brigand ; 
take my life this moment if you see fit ; I am here 
alone, unarmed. But there is a Power above us, the 
Father of the fatherless, the Protector of the widow 
and orphan, and as sure as you lay your hands on 
me in violence you will find that the vengeance of 
Heaven will speedily overtake you.” Folding her 
arms on her bosom, her eyes flashing fearless defiance, 
she went on, calmly : “ Strike ! I cannot defend my- 

self. It will not be the first unfortunate woman whom 
you have murdered in cold blood.” 

The random shot told. Matteo’s pallid brow and 
trembling figure showed that some poor victim’s dead 
face rose up in his mind, and that his conscience made 
his cowardly heart quake with fear. He looked 
at his prisoner for a moment and then hastily left 
the cell, slamming the door, which he locked, after 
him. 

Madam Velasquez fell in a swoon on the floor when 
she heard the key turn in the lock ; the horror of her 
dreadful situation had completely overcome her. 


THE ESCAPE. 


8 ? 

That afternoon the chief departed with the band, 
leaving Norris and two others to watch the prisoner. 
When Pepita brought Madam Velasquez her dinner 
she managed to slip a paper into her hand on which 
was scrawled : 

“ Dear Lady : — Do not weep any more. I am your 
friend. Be prepared to leave this place to-night. I 
shall drug the wine I give your guard, and I shall aid 
you to escape. 

“ Pepita.” 

“Thank Heaven!” exclaimed Madam Velasquez, 
“ that it has moved that poor girl to take compassion 
on me !” 

She tried to eat the food Pepita had brought her, 
in order to obtain strength for the flight ; and 
when ske had finished her dinner sat down and 
patiently waited for the shades of night to cast a 
friendly veil over the earth. She prayed Heaven 
most fervently to aid her to escape from the brigands. 

When evening came Pepita entered with a glass 
and a flask of wine : 

“ Come, Madam, drink some wine, for we have a 
long ride before us.” 

“ You are not dumb ?” exclaimed Madam Velas- 
quez, in amazement. 

“ No, Madam. Matteo, the yellow-tanned greaser, 
stole me from my father, Don Jose, who had a ranch 


88 


THE ESCAPE. 


near Monterey. He swore he would kill me if I 
spoke a word except to him.” 

“Will you not get yourself into trouble if you 
assist me in regaining my liberty, my generous 
friend ?” 

“ Oh, yes. Matteo would kill me if he found out 
that I had allowed you to escape ; but I am going to 
fly with you and Seflor Norris.” 

“ That man is not going with us, child ?” 

“Yes, Madam.” . 

“Then I will remain here and die. I will not fall 
into his hands unprotected ! I would rather trust to 
the mercy of the entire band than to that of the man 
who has dared ask me to become his wife.” 

“ Madam is mistaken ; Sefior Norris is a prisoner 
like ourselves. Matteo captured him a few months 
ago, and gave him his choice, either to join the band or 
to be lynched on the spot ; so you can trust Sefior 
Norris. Do not believe what that liar, Matteo, says. 
Come, we have not a moment to lose.” 

The two sleeping brigands were securely bound by 
Norris. He then assisted the two women to mount 
their horses, and the three fled for their lives. It was 
fortunate for Madam Velasquez and Pepitathat Norris 
was with them, for neither of them could have told 
which way to turn when they left the cave. Norris, 
however, knew the way perfectly, and he hurried his 
companions on in the hope of being beyond reach of 


THE ESCAPE. 


89 


the band by day-break. They stopped at the half- 
way house to rest before they attempted to cross the 
Great Desert Basin. 

“ Sefior Norris, will you please tell me how it is 
that you are connected with this band of brigands ?” 
asked Madam Velasquez, while they sat waiting for 
their horses to be fed and watered. 

“With pleasure, Madam,” replied Norris. “I was 
taken prisoner by the Confederates at the Battle of 
the Wilderness and sent to Libby Prison, where I 
remained until just before General Lee surrendered 
to General Grant. I was then sent down to Texas 
with a lot of Union prisoners. Just at the close of the 
war it was difficult to get transportation to the North, 
and I thought it would be as well to see something 
of Texan life while I was there ; so I joined a party 
of cow r -boys and went with them across the plains. 
Madam, we met with many adventures, and saved 
many lives and much valuable property, for the Red 
Skins were out in full force at that time. One day we 
came across Matteo’s band. We fought desperately, 
but in the end there were but two of our party left. 
We were offered our choice between death on the spot 
or becoming members of the band of brigands. What 
could we do, Madam, but yield ? Life, my dear lady, 
is sweet. At any rate, I became one of Matteo’s men. 
He took a fancy to me and made me his lieutenant ; 
but, Madam, I was only waiting for the opportunity to 


90 


THE ESCAPE. 


escape ; I can not fcrget that I have been a soldier of 
the proudest Republic in. the world." 

“ I am glad, Sefior, that I was fortunate enough to 
meet you. Now that I know your history I have con- 
fidence in you ; and when we arrive in San Francisco, 
if we are so fortunate, I shall be able to make some 
return for your kindness to me." 

The horses were brought and the travelers resumed 
their journey. They pushed on through the Great 
Desert as fast as the blinding alkali dust would allow. 
The sun was setting, and as darkness would soon shield 
them, they concluded to keep in the centre of the 
road. They accordingly turned their horses quite 
abruptly in that direction and spurred them into a 
brisk gallop. But this very act seemed to be a signal 
for trouble. The next moment a wild yell burst upon 
their ears, and a dozen mounted men came thundering 
down the road toward them. 

“ Great Heavens," exclaimed Norris, “ that is Mat- 
teo’s signal. We must ride for our lives ; if we fall 
into his hands now our lives are lost ; no power on 
earth could save us." 

“ I will die before I will fall again into his hands !" 
exclaimed Madam Velasquez. 

There was no mistaking the leader of the infuri- 
ated band, as he urged his men on with terrific yells. 

In a short race Norris felt that they might be the 
winners ; but he knew that the brigands had taken 


THE ESCAPE. 


91 


the best animals with them when they left the cave. 
He doubted whether Matteo knew who it was that he 
was pursuing, so he threw himself forward on the 
animal's back, so that his form was almost parallel 
with the back of the horse, hoping thus to avoid 
recognition. He knew that they could escape the 
brigands only by hard riding. To turn to the right or 
the left would only be to the advantage of their pur* 
suers. Straight forward was the only course, and 
stratagem their only hope. The race was a warm one 
for fully half an hour. The brigands had screamed 
themselves hoarse and were now quiet. 

Suddenly they seemed to stop, and Pepita, who 
looked behind said : 

“ Matteo is holding his field-glass to see who we 
are ; we had better cover our faces.” 

After Madam Velasquez and Pepita had fastened 
their veils over their faces, they all rode on at break 
neck speed ; anything was better than to fall again 
into the brigands' power. 

By this time darkness had fallen, but the sky was 
clear, and out upon the open desert there lingered a 
twilight which made it easy for the fugitives to be dis- 
cerned by their lynx-eyed pursuers ; but they tried in 
vain to distinguish the form of Norris, who kept him- 
self close to his horse’s back. 

Matteo, who, of course, did not know that his 
prisoners had escaped, or that his lieutenant had 


92 


THE ESCAPE. 


betrayed his trust, suddenly abandoned the pursuit; 
they had more profitable work before them in another 
part of the country. 

Pepita was first to discover the fact that Matteo 
and his band had turned their backs on them and 
were riding in an opposite direction. 

“ Senor Norris,” she said, “ Matteo did not recognize 
us. He has given up the chase.” 

“Thank God,” exclaimed Madam Velasquez, “we 
may now, perhaps, reach Los Angeles in safety !” 

“I hope so, Madam,” replied Norris, who now sat 
upright on his horse. 

They arrived at Los Angeles without meeting with 
any further trouble. When Charley Davis saw 
Madam Velasquez ride up to the Ballo d’Oro he 
threw his hat in the air, exclaiming : 

“ I’m glad, ma’am, to see you ; hold my horses, if I 
ain’t !” 

“ And I am not sorry to get back to my friends. I 
thought I should never see Los Angeles again. Poor 
Don Carlos !” said Madam Velasquez, the tears 
springing to her eyes as she thought of her husband 
lying unburied on the plains of the Great Desert. 

“ I always suspected that chap’s game eye ; but 
his friend took me in badly. I’d jest like to ketch 
them three strangers.” 

“Perhaps you will catch them some day, Char- 


THE ESCAPE. 


93 


ley,” said one of his friends who overheard the 
remark. 

“Jest so,” replied Charley Davis, decisively. 
“ Ketch 'em ; hell’s full of such ketches !” 

Madam Velasquez kept Pepita with her for several 
days at the hotel, and then sent her in charge of a 
friend to her father’s ranch, where she was greeted as 
one who had been suddenly restored to life. Her 
parents had mourned for her with greater sorrow 
than they would have done had they followed her to 
the grave. 

The beautiful widow returned to San Francisco, 
accompanied by Mr. Norris, to whom she felt deeply 
grateful for aiding her to escape from the brigands. 
Alas ! she did not know how she was tempting fate in 
thus making a friend of this man, whose past was 
unknown to her and surrounded by the darkest 
mystery. 

The Sefiora was a noble, warm-hearted woman, 
and of course, believed her deliverer to be an honor- 
able gentleman, because she could not conceive that 
a brave man could be aught but the soul of honor. 


94 


THE WIDOW'S INFATUATION. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE WIDOW’S INFATUATION. 

A year had elapsed since Marie Velasquez became 
a widow, and being one of the most beautiful, as well 
as the richest woman in San Francisco, her society was 
very much courted. 

Richard Norris appeared to advantage in the 
society of that gay Pacific city, thanks to Madam 
Velasquez, who was anxious to repay the debt of grat- 
itude which she felt she owed him for having rescued 
her from the brigands. She had made him her agent 
— he had charge of all her real estate in and around 
San Francisco — paying him liberally for his services. 
Richard Norris should have considered himself a for- 
tunate man ; but human nature is never quite satis- 
fied, and this man did not differ from the rest of man- 
kind in that respect. He felt that he ought to become 
master of the splendid property of which he was, at 
present, only the agent. 

During the first six months of his acquaintance 
with Madam Velasquez, he was very careful not to 
offend her, and merely offered her his silent devotion. 
One afternoon, however, while calling upon his fair 


THE WIDOW’S INFATUATION. 


95 


patroness on business, he ventured to ask to be 
allowed to drive her out to the Cliff House to break- 
fast. 

Madam Velasquez accepted the invitation, rather 
to the surprise of her admirer, and much to his satis- 
faction, for it showed him that she was not averse to 
being seen by her friends in his company. At this 
place one is always sure to meet some acquaintance, 
for one of the pet diversions of the pleasure-loving 
people of San Francisco is a breakfast at the Cliff 
House, and a sight, of the sea lions. 

Richard Norris, in the company of Madam Velas- 
quez, found it an exceedingly agreeable excursion. 
A drive of five or six miles along the hard-made road, 
and over the intermediate sand hills, brings the excur- 
sionist to the broad Pacific, rolling in and out, “ wide 
as waters be.” Instinctively one strains one’s eyes 
to make out the Sandwich Islands and China ; they 
are straight on before with no object intervening. 
Just to the right, around the corner of the bluff, is 
the Golden Gate, and vessels are passing in and out 
the bay. A high cliff places the wanderer thither, 
beyond the sands, within the ocean, and a fine hotel 
on its very edge offers every accomodation. Richard 
Norris tried to make himself thoroughly agreeable to 
the lady by his side, and he succeeded. The widow 
declared that she had enjoyed the drive, and she lin- 
gered over her breakfast, and assented with a smile to 


96 the widow’s infatuation. 

her cavalier’s suggestion that they should go out on 
the veranda of the hotel and watch the seals at their 
play. She sat there with a smile on her lovely face, 
dreamily watching the gambols of the strange-looking 
creatures and listening to her companion’s descrip- 
tion of the various battles he had passed through 
during the late war. The scene was a perfect picture, 
and one that, although familiar to her, always pos- 
sessed a charm for Madam Velasquez. Before her 
were half a dozen fragmentary rocks that looked like 
solid castles moored in the ocean, which were covered 
with seals and pelicans. The rocks seemed to be alive 
with them — great amphibious calves, with immense 
bodies and short, webby feet, and small heads with 
large, liquid human eyes, that are like those of a 
sorrowful woman. Often twenty or thirty of these 
creatures could be seen bobbing up and down in the 
water, and crawling up awkwardly and blunderingly, 
like an infant at its first creeping. They spread 
themselves all over the rocks to bask in the sun, 
raising their heads at intervals to look around them, 
and uttering their weird, mournful barks. 

They spent a couple of hours here very pleasantly, 
watching the seals through an opera-glass and idly 
speculating about the crowds of people as they passed 
up and down the veranda ; at last Madam Velasquez 
rose and signified her readiness to return home. 

After this, she appeared to have become infatuated 


THE WIDOW’S INFATUATION. 


97 


with Dick Norris. She was never so happy or con- 
tented as when in his society, and her true friends 
became anxious about her. Mrs. Miles, Madam Velas- 
quez’s housekeeper, became so alarmed at her mis- 
tress’ infatuation, that she wrote to the Madam’s 
nearest relative, a brother, who was absent from the 
city, for he was engaged in looking after the mines, in 
which he had been interested with Sefior Velasquez, 
and which were now worked for the benefit of his 
sister and himself. 

Sefior Ramirez, who was exceedingly busy just at 
this time, took no particular notice of Mrs. Miles’ first 
letter, and it it was not until he received the following 
note that he was at all impressed. It read as follows : 

“Dear SeSTor : — Come at once to San Francisco ; 
your presence is needed here. You alone can save 
your sister. • I beseech you to come as soon as possible, 
and I will explain matters when you arrive. 

“Yours respectfully, 

“Sarah Miles.” 

“ Caramba ! I wonder what has happened,” cried 
Pedro Ramirez. However, he packed his bag and 
arrived that evening at his sister’s house, where he 
was received by Mrs. Miles herself. She had been 
watching for him rather impatiently. 

“ Ah, Sefior, I am glad to see you. You are look- 
ing well.” 


98 


THE WIDOW S INFATUATION. 


“ Well, what is the matter ? What is it that alarms 
you ?” 

“Something is going on that I do not like ; I hope 
you will be able to put a stop to it all/’ 

“ Oh, you are always making mountains out of 
mole-hills ; that is why I did not come when you first 
wrote me. Tell me, at once, what has happened.” 

“ Do you remember having ever heard of Richard 
Norris ?” 

“ Certainly,” replied Sefior Ramirez ; “ but I have 
never had the pleasure of meeting him. He rescued 
my sister from the brigands, and she wrote me that 
she had made him her agent here.” 

“And she intends to make him her husband,” said 
Mrs. Miles, with a sagacious nod of her head. 

“ Caramba /” exclaimed her listener, rising excited- 
ly ; “ my sister must have lost her senses. Why, the 
man is a beggar, of whom she knows nothing.” 

“ He is very different from poor Sefior Velasquez, 
who was a gentleman, every inch of him. Oh, Sefior* 
I know a real gentleman when I see him ; this man is 
perhaps well enongh, but he’s not a gentleman. 
Madam Velasquez will not hear a word against him. 
He is here every day, they drive out or go to the 
theatre or opera together, and I don’t like the look of 
things. This is why I have sent for you. I may have 
done wrong ; but I do not want my dear mistress to 
be made unhappy.” 


THE WIDOW’S INFATUATION. 


99 


“You did perfectly right, Mrs. Miles. I’ll go and 
see my sister ; I suppose I shall find her in the parlor ?” 

“I think so, Sefior.” 

On entering the parlor, Sefior Ramirez saw his 
sister and Mr. Norris sitting together, but so engrossed 
were they with each other that they did not notice his 
entrance. The intruder started in horrified surprise 
at the picture which met his view. Richard Norris 
was holding the lady’s hands in his, and was address- 
ing her in the fond accents of a lover. 

Sefior Ramirez stood like one in a trance, but 
vaguely hearing what was said. 

“ Can you forget my poverty and become my 
wife ?” 

“O, Richard! I do not care for wealth. I have 
enough for both of us.” 

The words were whispered, but a great joy flashed 
into the lover’s face when he caught their meaning ; in 
a moment his arms were about her and her head 
upon his breast. 

“ My darling ; my wife !” he whispered. As the 
word “ wife” left his lips, some memory of the past 
seemed to come to h*.m, for he said : “ My darling, 

my past is, in a great measure, a sealed book to you. 
Are you willing that it should remain so ?” 

For an instant a doubtful expression crept over 
Madam Velasquez’s face, and she drew away her hand. 

“ I knew it,” he said, with a sigh. 


100 


THE WIDOW’S INFATUATION. 


“ Knew what ?” she asked, hastily. 

“ That you would require me to bestow upon you 
my fullest confidence.” 

“ 1 have not said so ” 

“ No ; but your face told me so. You are a straight- 
forward woman ; your past shines forth, with nothing 
in it to conceal. No cloud overshadows it.” 

“ What of that ? All lives are not alike.” 

“ My dear, I am really almost a stranger to you ; let 
me tell you something of my past. When you saw 
me first I was in the power of the brigands. I had 
been a soldier, a prisoner, who had never been ex- 
changed. I felt no desire to return to my home in the 
East. My parents were dead ; I had not any near rela- 
tives ; I was a poor man, and I believed that there was 
a bright future for me in the growing West. I can 
give you no proof of the truth of what I tell you. The 
few friends that I had in the little town where I was 
born, I dare say, believe me dead, and I do not care to 
undeceive them, for their is no tie that binds me to my 
old life. I want to leave it all behind, my darling, and 
begin a new life with you. Do you love me enough 
to trust me ?” 

“ I do love you, Richard,” she whispered, as she 
yielded herself to his loving clasp. 

“ Help me to forget my past, my darling, he saia, 
passionately, and their lips met in the first long kiss of 
plighted love. 


THE WIDOW’S INFATUATION. 


101 


Then the spell-bound listener in the back-ground 
came forward into the clear glow of the firelight, 
exclaiming : “ Marie !” 

A world of meaning was in that one little word. 
Madam Velasquez started, and a half-guilty flush 
passed over her face. Her brother had always been 
so much to her ; and besides, she stood a little in awe 
of him. He was so clever, so bright, and he could 
always see straight to the bottom of any matter. She 
felt intuitively that he would not approve of the step 
she was about to take. In a moment she recovered 
herself, and came forward to greet her brother. 

“Why, Pedro, when did you arrive?” she asked, as 
she kissed him lovingly. 

“About an hour ago,” he answered, in atone that 
warned his sister of breakers ahead. 

Turning to her lover, Madam Velasquez said : 

“ Richard, this is my brother, Sefior Ramirez, 
Pedro, this gentleman is Sefior Norris, who rescued 
me from the brigands. I hope you will be very good 
friends.” 

The gentlemen bowed in a decidedly distant manner 

“Unless I am mistaken, Sefior Norris and I have 
met before,” said Sefior Ramirez. 

“ Indeed !” exclaimed his sister. 

“ I do not recollect having met you, Sefior,” said 
Norris. 

“ But I have a derided recollection of having met 


102 


THE WIDOW’S INFATUATION. 


you. At that time you were known as Richard Norris* 
the leader of the Danites.” 

“You are mistaken, Sefior.” 

“ Impossible ! I left a mark on your face with my 
dirk, my dear sir, for you attempted to bully a party 
of miners and myself because we took exception to 
your Mormon faith/’ 

“ Again I say that you are mistaken ; I was never 
in Utah.” 

“ Sefior, I can swear that you are the man I fought 
with. Here is the scar of the wound I gave you on 
the cheek. Our weapons were dirks, and I was the 
victor ; possibly the latter fact may account for your 
poor memory,” said Ramirez, with a satirical smile. 

Richard Norris grew as pale as death when the 
Mexican pointed to the red scar on his cheek ; but he 
controlled himself with an effort. He was playing a 
dangerous game, which he was determined to win in 
spite of the odds that were against him. Madam Ve- 
lasquez was watching him intently. He drew himself 
up and said with dignity : 

“ Still I insist that you are mistaken, Sefior. The 
scar on my cheek was received at the Battle of the 
Wilderness. I never was in Utah, and I am not a 
Mormon in faith.” 

Sefior Ramirez looked puzzled. It seemed to him 
impossible that a man should persist in such a false- 
hood. Then, too, when he examined the man’s face 


THE WIDOW’S INFATUATION. 


103 


closely he saw that he was dark, while the man he had 
met in Utah was a fair-complexioned man ; otherwise, 
the resemblance was a wonderful one. He was scarce- 
ly convinced, yet he said : 

“ Pardon me, Sefior, if I am mistaken, but I assure 
you that you are the double of the Mormon with 
whom I fought ; only your complexion is darker, and 
then you do not wear a beard.” 

“Sefior Norris certainly cannot be the man you 
fancied him, Pedro !” exclaimed his sister, with a re- 
lieved expression. 

“ No, Marie, I have made a mistake. Your pardon, 
Sefior ?” 

“It is yours,” replied Norris, with a smile. “I 
fancy we all have our doubles in this world, and it is 
evident you have met mine.” 

“What an idea!” laughingly exclaimed Madam 
Velasquez. 

“ I trust, Sefior Ramirez, that we shall be friends. 
How long do you remain in the city ?” 

“ Only a few days, Sefior.” 

Norris very soon took his leave ; he could not just 
then act his part with safety, the horror and fright 
held him too strongly for that. And yet, after he had 
gone away and had thought about it calmly, he 
acknowledged to himself that the episode had 
only served to strengthen his position with his be* 


104 


THE WIDOW’S INFATUATION. 


trothed, and had thrown the game fairly into his own 
hands. 

When they were alone Madam Velasquez turned to 
her brother at once : 

“ Why were you so rude to Sefior Norris, Pedro?” 

“ I was not rude. I only spoke the truth. He does 
resemble the man for whom I mistook for him, and I 
never for a moment doubted his identity.” 

“ But you said the other man was fair ?” 

“ So is your friend, except his hair, and that, you 
know, may be dyed.” 

“Brother, you are unjust. I am sorry that you do 
not like Sefior Norris, he is my intended husband.” 

“ I regret to hear you acknowledge that fact, but I 
am not surprised. I witnessed an interesting love 
scene as I entered this room. Oh, my dear sister, I 
should almost rather see you dead than married to 
this man, whom I firmly believe is a mere adventurer. 
If I could, I would save you from the perdition of 
such a marriage.” 

“Perdition!” echoed Madam Velasquez, faintly; 
“what harsh language you use.” 

“Truth is not always pleasant, my dear sister. I 
urn convinced that the man is an adventurer. I hope 
he may be nothing worse.” 

“You have no right to speak so, nor to judge so 
harshly one of whom you know nothing. He is a 
gentleman, a-nd you offered him a cruel and unpro- 


105 


THE WIDOW’S INFATUATION. 

voked insult. You insult me still more cruelly by 
your abuse of him. Am I so old or so ugly that a 
man may not love me for my own sake ?” 

“ You know, Marie, that you are beautiful and still 
quite young enough to win a good man’s love and de- 
votion. This man is not worthy of you, and he is in- 
capable of feeling for you or for any woman a pure, 
unselfish love. He has conquered you as a cat does a 
a bird, who fascinates the poor wretch with its hate- 
ful green eyes.” 

‘‘You are altogether unjust and unreasonable.” 

“ No, no ; you will admit that I am a better judge 
of human nature than you are ?” 

“ Not in this case, Pedro, dear. I have known 
Sefior Norris a year, and it is altogether likely that I 
understand his character better than you can, who 
have seen him only once.” 

“My dear sister, one look at that man’s face is 
enough. He has enslaved you with pretty speeches 
and soft words as the cobra enslaves his victim ; and 
he will devour you as the cobra would. He will swal- 
low up your peace of mind, your self-respect, your in- 
dependence, your money — all the good things that 
you possess. He will make you contemptible in the 
eyes of all who know you ; and what is worse, he will 
make you base in your own eyes.” 

“ It is false, Pedro ; you are blinded by prejudice 
6 * 


106 


THE WIDOW’S INFATUATION. 


I will not listen to such unworthy suspicions of one 
whom I have called friend.” 

“ I want to save you from bitter disappointment, if 
I can.” 

“You are too late to ‘save me,* as you call it. 
Sefior Norris has touched my heart by his patient de- 
votion. I have not been so easily won as you seem 
to imagine. I had made up my mind never to marry 
again ; nothing was further from my thoughts than a 
second marriage. Such devotion as he has given to 
me is not often offered to any woman ; no woman living 
could resist it. His patience has conquered. I feel 
assured that he is all that is good and noble.” 

“ A sort of fallen angel, eh ? You women always 
think the man you are about to marry has wings ; 
after the honeymoon, first one wing drops off, then the 
other, and finally you find that you have only a mor- 
tal after all, and oftentimes you have a rough awak- 
ening from your love-romance, and you find you have 
a demon instead of an angel as your master for life.” 

“ What happiness can there be for us, Pedro, when 
you start with such prejudices ?” v 

“ I do not look for much.” 

“ You are very unkind, brother.” 

“ I am only cruelly kind, Marie. In all the world 
there is only my voice to wain and to plead with you. 
Before it is too late let us learn something of the past 


THE WIDOW’S INFATUATION. 


107 


life of this man. Do not trust to his word alone ; 
let me send a detective to Utah/* 

“ I should despise myself if I consented to such a 
course. I can never, never do that.” 

“ Perhaps it would be useless, after all. Mormon 
lips are sealed, and I doubt if even a skillful detective 
could get any satisfactory information from that 
source. However, I shall try it myself. I can do no 
more than fail, at the worst.” 

After her brother had left her, Madam Velasquez 
dropped into a chair by the fire and wept bitterly, for 
she fully believed herself to be an ill-used woman. 
The cup which had seemed to her so full of happiness 
had been suddenly and ruthlessly dashed from her 
lips. She dreaded her brother’s interference, and for 
the moment she felt that she ought to break the en- 
gagement she had just made. 

It was a premonition sent by her good angel to 
save her from the worst bitterness a woman’s heart 
can know — a shattered idol, and the vanished illusions 
of all her dreams of wedded bliss. 


108 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


CHAPTER XI. 

A MAD MARRIAGE. 

Pedro Ramirez was bewildered, but he was con* 
vinced that Richard Norris — in spite of his dark locks 
— was the same man whom he had met in Utah. In- 
deed, he was quite ready to swear to the man’s identity. 
The resemblance was marked, even to the scar on the 
left cheek. The name, too, was the same. He was 
sure that his memory was correct, both in regard to 
the man’s face and his name. But how was he to 
prove these facts, and convince his sister before she 
had irretrievably committed herself to so mad a 
marriage? This was a question which nearly drove 
the man wild, for he was a devoted and loving brother, 
and the thought of what his sister might bring upon 
herself made him tremble. 

He was quite aware that a woman in love is one of 
the most obstinate of mortals. He also knew that his 
sister, who was a generous and noble-minded woman, 
would receive any further unfavorable disclosures he 
might make in regard to her lover with scornful indig- 
nation. She thoroughly and entirely loved this needy 
adventurer. It was “all for love, or the world well 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


109 


lost,” with her as it has been with thousands of other 
men and women. But when she should discover the 
man’s true character she would loathe him, and after 
a few months more or less of happiness, she would 
suffer untold misery. 

Still he would make one more trial. He engaged 
one of the keenest detectives in San Francisco and 
sent him to Utah. This human hunter of wrong-doers 
returned after a few weeks absence with the following 
report : “ Richard Norris, a Mormon, supposed to be 

a Danite, had suddenly disappeared from Utah in 
company with two other men two years ago. He was 
reported to be in England on a mission for the Mor- 
mon church, and it was rumored that he would 
return in the spring with the Mormon converts he 
had made in his absence. In appearance he was said 
to be a light-complexioned man, five feet ten inches in 
height, gentlemanly in his manner, was thought hand- 
some, particularly by the fair sex, and was greatly 
respected by Brigham Young.” 

While this report did not throw any new or start- 
ling light upon the matter so near to Pedro Ramirez’s 
heart, it still served to strengthen the suspicion he 
had at first entertained. But as he had no proof to 
offer to his sister he was compelled to remain silent, 
and with a heavy heart to witness his sister’s marriage. 

This event took place one morning in March, very 
privately, in the church. A lady friend of Madam 


110 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


V/’elasquez and her brother were the only witnesses of 
the ceremony. They ca.me immediately to the house, 
and Richard Norris was introduced to the household 
as the husband of its mistress ; and the notice of the 
marriage was published in all the San Francisco 
papers, much to the astonishment of Madam Velas- 
quez’s friends and acquaintances. 

Immediately after the bridal party returned to the 
house Senor Ramirez bade his sister good-by. He 
could not bring himself to remain in the house just at 
present. 

“ Well ?” ejaculated the housekeeper, indignantly, 
to Sefior Ramirez before he left. 

“ My good woman, Richard Norris will be your 
master now ; for my sister’s sake, try and be civil to 
him.” 

“Well,” reiterated the housekeeper, “upon my 
word, when I got you here I thought everything 
would be right. I was a stupid old fool to let matters 
go so far before I sent for you.” 

“No one can do anything now,” said Sefior Rami- 
rez, sorrowfully. “ He has her fast in his toils ; and 
whatever I discover it will come too late. Be watch- 
ful ; and if ever that man is unkind to your mistress 
let me know at once.” 

“ He would not dare ” — 

“ I believe him to be a Mormon ; and, if I am 
right, he may soon tire of his beautiful wife ; but I 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


Ill 


swear before Heaven that if he is ever unkind to her 
I will punish him as he deserves,” said the Mexican, 
passionately. 

“ Don’t be uneasy, Sefior. I will watch over my 
mistress,” said Mrs. Miles, as she shook his hand at 
parting. 

That evening the newly-wedded pair drove out to 
the Cliff House, where they purposed to spend the 
first week of the honey-moon. 

Richard Norris could appear a perfect gentleman 
when he pleased, and as he was as much in love with 
the beautiful woman he had won as it was possible 
for him to be, he exerted himself to please her. The 
fair Mexican was happy-— happy for a week — as few 
mortals ever are on earth. Whatever the future had 
in store for her, she had lived one week of perfect 
bliss. 

The day before they were to return home Madam 
Norris said to her husband : 

“ O, Richard I wish that we could stay here 
always ; I do not want any one to come between us — 
to take your thoughts from me — for even a moment. 
Shall we always be as happy as we have been this 
week ?” 

“ Always, my precious love ; that is, if you will 
always love me as you do now.” 

“Richard, you have no idea how I do love you. I 
love you better than my life. I love you so much that 


112 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


— oh ! — it frightens me when I try to realize how 
much I love you. If your heart turns from me now I 
shall die !” she exclaimed, impetuously. 

“ My darling,” he answered, tenderly, clasping her 
in his arms, “ my heart will never turn from you. 1 
am yours, and you may do with me what you will. I 
shall love you forever and forever.” 

“ You must, Richard. I should be miserable with- 
out your love.” 

“ Don’t talk nonsense, little one,” said her husband, 
laughingly. “ Do you suppose that I could see beauty 
in any other face ? In all this world there is but one 
face that ever carried me away — and how lovely it is !” 
he exclaimed, enthusiastically, taking his wife’s face 
between his hands and covering it with kisses. 

If this man was not thoroughly in earnest, he cer- 
tainly knew how to hold the mirror up to nature — he 
was an admirable actor. 

Mr. and Mrs. Norris returned to San Francisco and 
gave a grand reception, followed by dinner parties 
and entertainments without number. The fair Mexi- 
can was proud of her husband, and wished to nave 
him recognized socially by the 61ite of the gay Pacific 
city. 

* * * * * * 

“ Marie, I want a check for five hundred dollars to 
pay for the improvements on that Market-street prop- 
erty of yours.” 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


113 


“Richard, I have given you checks during the 
past few months to the amount of ten thousand dol- 
lars, and I find that you have made no improvements ; 
you have not even had the necessary repairs attended 
to in the property entrusted to your care. Several of 
my old tenants have come to me with complaints. I 
dislike to doubt you, but I could not refuse to hear 
what these people had to say.” 

“ Why do you interfere with my affairs ?” 

“ You forget that the property is mine, or — perhaps 
I should say — was mine, for I recognize your right to 
share my fortune ; and my tenants, particularly the 
older ones, naturally look to me for justice. They 
complain bitterly of your treatment of them, Rich- 
ard.” 

“Upon my word you are a strange woman, Marie.” 

“What do you mean? 1 do not understand you.” 

“That I cannot understand how so loving a wife as 
you pretend to be should allow any one to speak dis- 
respectfully to you of your husband.” 

“ I could not prevent it, Richard. I felt deeply 
mortified that you had shown so little confidence in 
me. If you wanted money for any purpose I would 
have given it to you.” 

“ Would you ?” 

“ Certainly. Why did you deceive me?” 

“Oh, don’t spare me, Madam. Tell me that I told 
you any number of untruths in order to obtain the 
7 


114 


A MAD MAREIAGE. 


money that I had a right to demand. I married you 
for your fortune. You were foolish if you did not 
know it.” 

“And you dare tell me this to my face ?” 

“Why not, Madam? Did you not make a fair 
exchange? You wanted a husband and business man- 
ager combined. I needed a fortune. You are very 
beautiful — very beautiful ; but so are thousands of 
other women in this city who do not possess a fortune. 

married you because you had both wealth and 
beauty.” 

“ You are candid, Sefior.” 

“ Madam, you invited me to be so. And it is per- 
haps as well that we should understand one another at 
the outset. I certainly should not have burdened my- 
self with a wife who had no fortune. When fate threw 
you in my path, and I found you were possessed of 
the wealth that I coveted, I determined to make you 
my wife. It is useless to sulk. You’ll find me the 
devil to deal with if you try that game. Kiss me, my 
dear, and then write me that check for five hundred 
dollars.” 

She never stirred, but looked steadily at him, her 
heart too full for utterance. 

“ Do you not know that I am your master ?” 

“ Heaven help me !” she cried out. 

“There — none of your heroics. Show that you are 
a dutiful wife by complying with my request,” 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


115 


She sat down to her desk and wrote the check, toss- 
ing it to him without another word 

“ Thanks, my dear,” he said, coolly, picking up the 
check. “ Don’t sit up for me. I have promised to 
meet a party of friends at the club.” 

“ Sefior, when I married you, I loved you. I be- 
lieve you are incapable of knowing to what extent you 
have outraged that love during this interview. It may, 
perhaps, assist you to comprehend it in some degree, 
if I tell you that soon after our marriage I made a will 
leaving the greater part of my fortune to you. My 
mining interest, in which my brother already has a 
share, in common justice I willed to Pedro. Wednes- 
day morning my lawyer has an appointment here to 
attend to the renewal of Mr. Mason’s lease. At that 
time I shall make another will, Sefior, and if it does 
not please you, you have yourself to blame.” 

“ Do as you please. Adieu !” replied her husband, 
as he left the room. 

She waited until she heard him leave the house, 
and then fell on her knees and gave vent to her misery 
and despair. To be so brutally told that she had 
been married for her fortune was a bitter awakening 
from her bright dream of happiness. To be bound 
for life to a man who, n a few months’ time, had said 
to her, sneeringly : “ I married you for your fortune, 
and you were foolish not to know it,” was more than 
she could bear. Love and honor had fled, destroyed 


116 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


by those terrible words. Her heart grew chilled and 
cold as she thought of them through the long hours 
of that gloomy night. A horrible fear came over her. 
She must learn to hate the man . she had loved — wor- 
shipped so devotedly. Was it possible ? Could she 
live after she had learned that lesson ? She shivered 
when she thought of the long and dreary life she saw 
before her. Oh, if she could only die ! But she 
shrank from that — she was so young. 

Then her mood changed, and she implored Heaven 
to pardon her for making an idol of the man she had 
married. She had been justly punished, she knew, 
in her heart. She also prayed for strength and cour- 
age to do her duty, and to bear bravely whatever trial 
might be in store for her. When the day dawned she 
threw herself upon the bed and slept the restless sleep 
of the weary. 

Richard Norris, in a mood that was anything but 
amiable, spent the night — as he had spent a good 
many since his marriage — in a fashionable gambling 
house. This house was kept by a Mexican who had a 
lovely wife to make the place charming for its hab- 
itues. She offered them wine in the daintiest of 
glasses, and dispensed her most beguiling smiles, and 
when they had quite lost their heads her husband took 
them in charge and conducted them to the gambling 
table, where they generally lost heavily. 

Richard Norris had found this woman something 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


117 


new, and piquant, and altogether worth cultivating ; 
and he meant to pursue the acquaintance — he had 
many another of the same sort — while the charm 
lasted. In pursuance of this idea, he had lost heavily 
at the gaming table, and had spent some thousands in 
diamonds for the lovely decoy. It was to these uses 
that he had put the money given him by his* generous 
and trusting wife. 

This scoundrel was already tired of the pure 
woman he had married. How to rid himself of her 
and also to obtain her fortune was a question that he 
had been revolving in his mind for some time, and 
when his wife had told him of the will which she 
intended to revoke, she had signed her own death 
warrant. Her husband determined that she must not 
be allowed to carry out her threat ; he would prevent 
her doing so by fair means — or foul ones, if the others 
fai’cd. 

He was busily turning over in his mind various 
plans regarding his future conduct towards his wife 
when he entered Antonio Perez’s house. He spent an 
hour there in the drawing-room, and then excused 
himself and started up stairs to try his luck. On the 
way he met Jose Castro, a young Mexican from Mon- 
terey, who had come to San Francisco in the hope of 
improving his fortunes. 

Castro was a born gamester, and was to be found 
every night at Perez’s rcoms. Norris saw by the 


118 


A MAD MARRIA3E. 


gloomy look on Castro’s face that he was departing 
with an empty pocket. 

“ Well, my friend, what luck ?” demanded Norris. 

“None, Sefior. I have lost all ; and I feel like 
blowing off my own stupid head.” 

“ Nonsense, man ; where is your pluck ?” 

“ I am desperate, Sefior.” 

“ Do you want to make a thousand dollars ?” 

“ I should jump at the chance.” 

“ And you would not be over scrupulous how you 
earned it ?” 

“Try me, Sefior; I would do anything for a large 
sum of money. I’m tired of this city, and I want to 
return to Monterey. I am going to marry the sweet- 
est girl in the world. But tell me how I am to earn 
this money ?” 

“ Come home with me and I will explain to you 
what I desire to be done,” said Norris, slipping his 
arm through Castro’s and leading him from the 
house. 

A rapid walk of about twenty minutes brought 
them to Norris’ home. Everybody had retired, and 
the house was quiet. Norris showed Castro into the 
sitting-room and brought several bottles of Cham- 
pagne from the wine cellar. He helped the young 
Mexican freely, watching the effect of the wine. Pres- 
ently he said, as he placed a box of cigars before his 
guest : 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


119 


“ Now we are comfortable and can talk busi- 
ness.” 

“ Proceed, Sefior,” replied Castro. 

“ Castro, I am a wretched man.” 

“ You have my sympathy, Sefior.” 

“ I married a very beautiful woman, but she hates 
me , and she makes my life miserable.” 

“ Sefior, what you say surprises me.” 

“ Ah, if you could know how miserable I am, you 
would pity me.” 

“ I do, Sefior, from my heart.” 

“ Then you will not refuse to render me a service 
for which I will pay you handsomely.” 

“ How can I aid you, Sefior ?” 

Norris regarded the Mexican intently for a mo- 
ment, and leaned over and whispered : 

“ By shooting my wife.” 

Sefior !” exclaimed Castro, rising 

“ Sit down, my dear sir ; don’t pretend to be 
shocked. You said you were willing to serve me, 
and you are in need of funds. I will pay you two 
thousand dollars for the work I want done. To prove 
to you that I am in earnest I will give you the first 
installment now,” said Norris, counting out five 
hundred dollars and placing them in Castro’s willing 
hand. 

“ At what time do you want the work done, and 
how am I to obtain an entrance to the house ?” 


120 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


“You need not enter the house at all. My wife 
always sits here in the evening,” said Norris, coolly, 
pointing to a large bay-window ; “ generally at this 
table, reading or writing. You see this window opens 
on the garden ; from the outside she can easily be 
seen. It is easily managed by a clever man like your- 
self, and you will have ample time for escape." 

“ Bravo, Sefior ; I see you fully understand the 
business.” 

“And you, Sefior ?” 

“ Oh, I was once a brigand ; and to one anything 
is possible, you know.” 

“ Ah, I thought as much.” 

“ But you have not told me how I am to obtain 
the balance of the money, Sefior ?” 

“ Oh, that is easily arranged. You can escape by 
jumping over the garden wall, which is a low one. 
Walk quietly down to the corner of Clay and Mont- 
gomery streets and a man will meet you and pass you 
a purse containing the fifteen hundred dollars, with 
the words : ‘ Farewell, forever.’ Does this plan suit 
you ?” 

“ Yes, Sefior. You are a generous friend, and I 
cannot refuse to help you. Here is success, Sefior,” 
said Castro, filling a glass of champagne. When he 
took his departure he brutally observed : “ Before 

the sun sets next Tuesday she will be quiet enough.’ 1 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


121 


As Norris closed the door on his guest, he mut- 
tered : 

“ That man is a fool to think that I would spare 
him. I, too, have been a brigand.” 

The next morning when Norris met his wife at 
breakfast he apologized for his rudeness of the pre- 
vious day. 

“ He had met some friends from the East,” he 
said, “ and they had taken too much wine.” 

Madam received her husband’s apologies rather 
coolly ; but that night, when her brother arrived, the 
three sat down to dinner an apparently happy family. 
On his sister’s account Pedro treated his brother-in- 
law with courtesy ; but in his heart he still distrusted 
and despised him. 

After dinner the family assembled in the sitting- 
room, and Norris handed his wife several new novels 
which he had bought for her that morning. She sat 
down in her usual place to examine them, while her 
husband and brother drew their chairs near the fire, 
smoked and discussed mining stocks. A more 
peaceful family picture could not be imagined. 

While the beautiful woman quietly turned over 
the leaves of one of the books, unconscious of the 
danger which menaced her, a man’s face appeared, 
for an instant at the window. No one but Norris saw 
him, and he made no sign ; he sat perfectly quiet and 
self-possessed, listening to his brother-in-law’s coriver 


122 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


sation. Again the face appears at the window and is 
hastily withdrawn. The bright barrel of a pistol is 
seen to glimmer in the light as the man takes deliber- 
ate aim at his unfortunate victim and fires. 

With a wild shriek Mrs. Norris sprang from her 
chair, and the book she had been reading fell to the 
floor. She put out her arms, tottered and would have 
fallen had not her husband caught her in his arms. 

The entire household was startled by hearing the 
report of fire-arms. Mrs. Miles and two of the ser- 
vants rushed to the room, and stood speechless with 
horror as they saw their beloved mistress with the 
blood slowly flowing down her back from the deadly 
wound in her head. 

Sefior Ramirez was for a moment completely 
dumbfounded with horror, and he stood wringing his 
hauds in mute agony. 

Richard Norris was the calmest one of that excited 
group. He turned to his brother-in-law and said : 

“ Pedro, help me carry Marie to the sofa. I must 
find the assassin before he escapes.” 

Mrs. Norris was laid on the sofa and her distracted 
brother bent over her in anguish. Mrs. Miles dis- 
patched a servant for the family physician, and tried 
to revive the unconscious woman. 

Richard Norris, in the meanwhile, ran through the 
garden, by a short cut which he knew well, and 
reached Castro as he was in the act of jumping 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


123 


the garden wall. He called to him softly, and the 
Mexican sprang from the wall and came toward him, 
whispering nervously : 

“ Quick, give me the reward.” 

“Take it,” cried Norris, and ho raised his revolver 
and shot his dupe through the heart. The Mexican 
dropped without a word. Norris bent over his victim 
a moment to make sure that he was really dead. 
Being satisfied of the fact he started for the house, 
muttering to himself : “ I am safe ; dead men tell no 
tales.” 

“ Oh, Sefior, did you fi/id the murderer?” exclaimed 
Mrs. Miles, as Norris entered the house. 

“I did; and I have shot him. My poor wife is 
avenged.” 

They were hovering distractedly about the couch 
of the suffering woman, not knowing what to do until 
the doctor should arrive. 

“Who was the assassin?” asked Pedro. “Who 
could find it in his heart to harm my sister?” 

“Hush!” exclaimed Mis. Miles, pointing toward 
the wounded woman, who at that moment opened her 
eyes and looked inquiringly about her. Her husband 
immediately threw himself beside her on his knees, 
apparently overcome by his emotion. 

“Deai^st, da y>u know me?” he asked, anxiously, 
w r iile 'vr? Vr^th*r, unable to restrain his grief, sobbed 
abrrt l 


124 


A MAD MARRIAGE. 


The dying woman murmured her brother’s name, 
and made a sign for him to raise her ; and when he 
took her in his arms and laid her head tenderly upon 
his breast, she faintly smiled her thanks. She did not 
notice her husband ; perhaps she remembered the 
cruel words he had uttered to her the day before. It 
is likely that, for the moment, Norris did feel a slight 
sting of remorse for the cowardly part he had acted 
toward the beautiful woman who had been so much to 
him ; at any rate, he rose hastily from his knees and, 
bending over his wife, kissed the lovely brow which 
was fast growing cold, and cried out : 

“ O, my darling, my darling, speak to me !” 

The only answer his wife gave him was a reproach- 
ful look that must have even touched his callous heart. 
She looked up in her brother’s face, and said, faintly : 

“ Pedro, avenge me.” 

“ I will, I swear it by the Most High,” answered her 
brother, in a hoarse whisper. 

At this moment an awful pallor spread over the 
wounded woman’s face ; she raised herself convulsive- 
ly, then fell back in her brother’s arms, apparently 
unconscious. 

The doctor hastily entered the apartment, and 
proceeded to examine his patient. 

“Doctor, has my wife fainted ?” asked Norris. 

The old physician shook his head. 

“ No, my friend,” lie answered, “ your wife is dead.” 


PROFESSOR HOBART S MESMERIC POWER. 


125 


CHAPTER XII. 

professor hobart’s mesmeric power. 

{The terrible mystery surrounding the murder of 
Madam Norris deepened every day. The papers pub- 
lished a new theory every morning as to the motive 
of the cowardly act. Clever detectives had the work 
in hand ; but even the most promising of their clues 
ended in smoke, and the problem w T as no nearer solu- 
at the end of the month than it had been in the be- 
ginning. 

The great question, of course, was : “What could 
be the motive for the crime?” Jose Castro, the Mexi- 
can, who had been shot by Norris, was looked upon 
as a hired assassin. Who was the man who had 
bribed him to do the cowardly deed ? As far as was 
known, the victim had been universally beloved. She 
was very charitable, and spent her money freely to re- 
lieve the needy, and to contribute to the pleasure of 
friends and dependents. 

The theory most generally adopted was that 
Madam Norris’ untimely death was the work of some 
one of her rejected suitors who had simply employed 
Castro to do it. Indeed, it did seem probable that 


126 professor hobart’s mesmeric power. 

jealousy was at the bottom of this sad affair ; her ro- 
mantic marriage had been a disappointment to many 
admirers. 

Another theory, and one that rapidly gained cre- 
dence, was that the bullet had been intended for Nor- 
ris, and, being clumsily aimed, had missed its mark. 

This theory seemed even more probable than the 
other. Norris had been coldly received in society, 
even in San Francisco, where adventurers are an 
every-day affair ; even his wife’s popularity could not 
ensure him a cordial welcome, and his entrance into 
the world of fashion had not been a successful one. 
It was not only that he was wholly unknown ; but he 
lacked the easy grace with which some men are gifted, 
which wins for them friends without an effort on their 
part. He had not even the bearing of a gentleman ) 
and he could not, by any effort, seem the equal of the 
people who surrounded him. When he married the 
widow of Sefior Velasquez, who had been highly re- 
spected and honored m San Francisco, her many 
friends, and society in general, had been both shocked 
and surprised. Her admirers envied him, and in a 
quiet way some of these gentlemen avenged them- 
selves by throwing a black ball when his name was 
proposed for membership at the principal clubs. 

Notwithstanding this want of favor, the finger of 
suspicion did not point at him. On the contrary, 
everyone applauded him for his promptness in shoot- 


professor hobart’s mesmeric tower. 127 

ing the assassin, and the Coroner’s Jury immediately 
acquitted him. It was an act, they said, of justifiable 
vengeance. 

The morning after the tragic event crowds col- 
lected about the house and grounds, attracted to the 
spot by a feeling of morbid curiosity. The Velasquez 
mansion had suddenly become famous, and would re- 
main so for many years to come. The personal 
friends of the poor woman crowded into the parlor 
where she lay, and spoke in subdued tones of the trag- 
edy, and cast sympathetic glances at the husband who 
had been so suddenly bereaved. He sat near the 
coffin, with his arms folded, looking like a man who 
had received a stunning blow. He was pale and 
care-worn, and seemed completely prostrated by his 
grief. 

He had the sympathy of the entire community with 
one exception — the brother of the murdered woman 
felt a chill of horror creep over him whenever he was 
in the presence of the apparently sorrow-stricken 
widower. A thousand little incidents, that he now re- 
called of his sister’s married life, convinced him, 
against his will, that her husband had instigated the 
murder. The maddening suspicion was ever upper- 
most in his mind. Sleeping or waking, the phantom 
ever whispered in his ear : “ Avenge her murder!” 

Unconsciously he asked himself: “Who hired the 
assassin ?” And ever came the answer : “Behold him.” 


128 PROFESSOR HOBART'S MESMERIC POWER. 

It seemed to Ramirez that whenever their eyes met 
a tremor passed over the face of the suspected man, 
and it was only by a mighty effort that he succeeded 
in recovering himself and assumed his expression of 
suffering. 

So strong did this suspicion become in the mind of 
the half-distracted brother that he was at times 
tempted to openly accuse Norris of his wife’s murder ; 
but he was well aware that he had no proof to offer. 

The testimony at the inquest was very vague ; 
nothing of importance was established, except that the 
murderer and his victim were absolutely unknown to 
each other. This fact was established beyond a doubt, 
and the jury could do no more than bring in a ver- 
dict : 

“ Shot by Jose Castro ; motive unknown.” 

Pedro was astonished and puzzled by the uncon- 
trollable grief manifested by Norris both before and 
during the services, and particularly at the grave, 
where he was apparently completely overcome. Still 
his suspicions were not to be stifled. Perhaps one 
reason for this feeling of distrust was that he believed 
his brother-in-law to be a Mormon, against which sect 
Ramirez had an unconquerable prejudice. When he 
had been detained in Utah for some months by a se 
vere illness he had seen enough thoroughly to disgust 
him with the workings of their peculiar faith. 


professor hobart’s mesmeric power. 129 

There was also another matter which puzzled him, 
and which also served to strengthen his suspicion of 
wrong on the part of his brother-in-law. It was this. 
After the funeral of his sister, when her legal advisei 
called at the house for the purpose of opening the will 
Norris’ face wore an eager, expectant look until aftei 
the will had been read, when Ramirez heard him say 
to the lawyer : 

“ Are you sure that this is the last will my wife 
made ?” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied the lawyer. “I drew it up on 
the very day of the assassination. Mrs. Norris tele- 
graphed to me that morning to call upon her at ten 
o’clock.” 

Such was the fact. The unhappy wife, enraged by 
her husband's cruel words, had sent for her lawyer 
on the spur of the moment, and thus defeated the 
deep-laid scheme to secure her fortune. By the terms 
of that will Norris received twenty thousand dollars, 
and the bulk of her fortune went to her brother. 

After these formalities were concluded, Ramirez, 
feeling himself unable to control himself any longer 
in the presence of his brother-in-law, hastily packed 
his bag, bade Norris a formal farewell, and departed 
on the evening boat for Sacramento. 

On the third evening after his arrival in that city, 
his attention was attracted to the ladies’ parlor, from 
whence issued the sound of many laughing voices. 


8 


130 


PROFESSOR HOBART S MESMERIC POWER. 


Walking to the door he looked in, purely out of curi* 
osity. Seated in the centre of the room was a young 
lady surrounded by at least.fifty persons of both sexes. 
She was evidently under some occult influence, and 
before her stood a gentleman, a very handsome man, 
with a face of rare intelligence which was lighted by 
large dark eyes. On the little finger of one of his 
hands he wore a ring in which was set a diamond of 
unusual size and brilliancy. He appeared to be ques- 
tioning the sleeping beauty, for he was bending over 
her. Presently Ramirez heard him ask : 

“ Where is it now ?” 

In a soft, low tone of voice, yet perfectly clear and 
distinct, came the reply : 

“It is on the mantel-piece now.” 

She paused ; a gentleman removed the watch and 
placed it in his pocket. Then the gentleman who was 
doing the questioning asked : 

“ And where is it now ?” 

“ In Mr. Hill’s pocket,” was the unhesitating reply. 
The audience applauded ; the gentleman made a few 
rapid passes over the sleeping girl, who awoke with a 
start and a sigh, and then said : “ Ladies and gentle- 

men, I trust you are all amused and interested by this 
test of my powers as a mesmerist ; I will give you 
another seance to-morrow evening at eight o’clock, 
which, I trust, will be even more satisfactory than the 
one you have just witnessed.” 


professor iiobart’s mesmeric power. 


131 


The little audience expressed its curiosity and 
interest in a general hum of approval before it dis- 
persed, and Professor Hobart hurried to the smoking- 
room, lit a cigar, and was soon in the dreamland of 
the habitual and devoted smoker. 

Pedro Ramirez followed the Professor to the smok- 
ing-room, and he also lit a cigar, and, while leisurely 
smoking it, cogitated deeply on the man’s wonderful 
gift. So wrapped was he in his thoughts that his 
cigar went out. Crossing over to the Professor he 
politely asked him for a light. When he handed the 
stranger his cigar, he observed : 

“ Mille graciasjsz fior. Permit me to say that I wit- 
nessed the latter part of your seance to night in the 
parlor yonder. It has impressed me ; I found it 
rather startling. I am slightly acquainted with the 
lady who was under the mysterious influence of your 
powers, and I feel sure that she is not a confederate 
of yours.” 

“ Certainly not, sir,” courteously replied the gen- 
tleman thus abruptly addressed. “The seance was 
only given for the amusement of those who chanced 
to be present. The power that I possess is not shown 
for money. Although it fas brought plenty to others, 
I have never shared the spoils ” 

“ It is a wonderful gift.” 

“ Si, Senor,” assented the Professor, quietly knock- 
ing the ashes from his cigar. “ It is beyond human 


132 PROFESSOR HOBARpS MESMERIC POWER. 

comprehension how one man can read the thoughts of 
another, and that other sleeping. Nevertheless, it is 
true that I can talk with that man, control his move- 
ments, and hold communion with him in the most 
perfect manner ; in fact, he is perfectly powerless in 
my hands.” 

“ And is the person in your hands unable to resist 
your influence ?” asked Pedro. 

“ As a rule — yes. And the. person who has been 
under my influence knows nothing — absolutely noth 
ing — about it. When he awakes he does so with a 
start, with a momentary sensation of a pain in the 
heart.” 

“Ah!” exclaimed Ramirez, with a slight start, as 
though an idea had suddenly occurred to him ; then, 
after a moment’s meditation, he said to the Professor : 
“ Sefior, you will excuse me, as we are strangers, but 
I should be glad of a few moments’ private conversa- 
tion with you.” 

“Certainly,” replied the gentleman. Tossing his 
cigar into the fire he moved close to the young Mexi- 
can and took him familiarly by the hand. 

Gazing earnestly into the face of his companion 
the young man asked : 

“If a man were once under your influence could 
you tell whether or not he had committed a murder ?” 

“ Surely,” was the reply. “ Give me five minutes’ 
with him after he is thoroughly under my influence, 


professor iiobart’s mesmeric power. 133 

and he will tell me all he knows about it. I will stake 
my life on that.” 

‘‘And you will help me, Senor !” 

The abruptness of the question, and the earnest- 
ness of the questioner, absolutely startled the Profes- 
sor, and he gazed at the young man for a moment 
without speaking. 

The Mexican, after a moment’s reflection, said in a 
voice of deep emotion : 

“Ah, Sefior, I had a sister who was dearer to me 
than all the world beside. She has been murdered — 
cruelly murdered — and her murderer walks the streets 
of San Francisco in defiance of the law.” 

“What need have you of my aid? Why not 
demand the aid of the law ?” 

“ Sefior, I lack proof.” 

“ But, my dear sir, it is a detective’s business to 
hunt down criminals. Besides, what my power would 
reveal to you would not be accepted as proof in a 
court of law. My interference, too, might lead to 
fatal results. Pray excuse me. I cannot aid you.” 

“ O, Senor, help me at all costs. I do not expect 
to offer the evidence that I get from your assistance 
in the courts ; I know better than that. Let me be 
once convinced that I do not wrong him whom I sus- 
pect, and I will find proof that will be accepted. 
Think, if the case were ycur own, would you leave 


134 professor hobart’s mesmeric power. 

any course untried ? No ; I am sure that you would 
pursue the murderer to the bitter end.” 

“Senor, you can confide in me. I will keep your 
secret. Explain what you mean.” 

“ It may be that I have no right to accuse this 
person, but I am impelled to do so ; for days it has 
haunted me — this continual impulse to accuse the 
man whom I suspect ” — 

“Then it is not a new idea which has occurred to 
you ?” interrupted Professor Hobart. 

“ No, Sefior ; something tells me that I am not 
deceived My imagination alone might have deceived 
me, but when it comes to an obstinate and firmly- 
rooted belief — impression, I should call it — which 
haunts me, day in and day out, what can I think ? 
Then, too, I have the most vivid and explicit dreams 
at night.” 

“Dreams?” 

“Yes; I have had the same dream night after 
night. I see my sister’s husband in conversation with 
a Mexican, and I know that they are plotting her 
death. Then I see the Mexican steal into the garden. 
The night is dark, but he does not follow the path 
that leads to the house, — he passes over the flower-beds, 
— creeps softly up the steps of the balcony, until he 
stands almost at my sister’s back, — then he fires, and 
crawls away. My brother-in-law runs out of the room 


professor iiobart’s mesmeric power. 


135 


and goes directly to where the assassin is awaiting 
him. He appears about to hand the wretch a purse, 
when, instead of doing so, he draws a pistol from his 
pocket and fires, and the Mexican falls. Then my 
brother-in-law replaces his weapon and returns to the 
house.” 

Pedro’s great dark eyes were a trifle sunken in 
their orbit, and encircled by dark rings ; but a light 
flashed in them which illuminated his whole face. As 
he went on in his narrative he spoke with such an air 
of conviction that all idea of dream vanished, giving 
place to a real scene, which he painted in all its reality 
and horror. So it was that the Professor was surprised 
into saying : 

“Yes, yes; it must have been thus that the crime 
was committed.” 

“ Will you, then, aid me in my efforts to prove it ? 
The man shall never even suspect your agency in the 
matter.”' 

“ Yes ; I will aid you to the best of my ability 
You have completely overcome my scruples.” 

“ Mille gracias, Sefior,” exclaimed Pedro, shaking 
the hand of his new friend. “Let us start at once !” 

“ I will do as you desire ; for I perceive that you 
will not know any peace until your doubts are set at 
rest in one way or another.” 

After settling his bill at the hotel, and taking leave 


186 professor hobart’s mesmeric power. 

of the ladies and gentleman to whom he had 
promised another seance — which he postponed until 
his return — Professor Hobart jumped into the car- 
riage with Ramirez and drove to the steamer, which 
was to sail that evening for San Francisco. 


MURDER WILL OUT. 


137 


CHAPTER XIII. 

MURDER WILL OUT. 

Pedro and his new friend, on their arrival in San 
Francisco, drove at once to the Velasquez mansion. 
Pedro led the way to the library, where they found 
Norris looking over some magazines. 

“ Ah, good morning, Pedro ; I am glad to see you 
back again,” said Norris, cordially, when the two 
gentlemen entered the room, 

Pedro was astounded. It was evident that this 
man had in his absence acquired perfect mastery over 
himself ; and for a moment Pedro’s firm conviction 
wavered, and he questioned whether, after all, he had 
not been guilty of a great wrong in thus suspecting 
his brother-in-law. After a moment’s hesitation, he 
said : 

“ Richard, this is Professor Hobart, who is on a 
tour of exploration along the coast, and is collecting 
specimens. My brother-in-law, Mr. Norris, Professor. 
I have promised the Professor as hearty a welcome as 
it is in our power to bestow, under the circumstances, 
for, my dear sir, Mr. Norris has lately lost the best of 
wives, and I the dearest of sisters.' 


138 


MURDER WILL OUT. 


“Any friend of Sefior Ramirez is sure of a wel- 
come from me,” returned Norris, with a low bow and 
a sinister smile. 

They discussed the weather, the crops, the future 
prospects of the Golden State, until finally the con- 
versation drifted into the subject of Mormonism. 
The Professor lived some years in Utah, and was a 
friend of Brigham Young’s, and he spoke kindly of 
the Mormon society ; but Pedro, who felt a blind 
hatred for the entire sect, said : 

“ They are an infamous body, and I wonder that 
the United States Government should allow them to 
remain here undisturbed. I would destroy them root 
and branch.” 

“ But, my dear sir, it is against the principles of the 
Constitution of the United States for the Government 
to interfere with any man’s religious belief,” ex- 
claimed Norris, in an excited tone. 

“ Mormonism is not a matter of hearsay with me,” 
said Professor Hobart. “ During my residence in 
Salt Lake City I think I studied these people and 
their peculiar belief ” — 

“ So did I,” interrupted the Mexican, “ and I never 
could see anything to admire about them or about 
their religion.” 

“ The ignoble origin of this sect,” smilingly 
observed the Professor, “ does not give us a reason 
for despising it. In my opinion this sect is a good 


MURDER WILL OUT. 


139 


healthy body, upon which the cancer of polygamy is 
feeding. But after all, why should we throw stones 
at the Mormons ? They have only construed the 
teachings of the Old Testament in the most liberal 
manner.” 

“ That is true ; if they are polygamists, so were 
the old patriarchs. What kind of a man was Solomon 
in all his glory ?” asked Norris. 

“ If he were anything like Brigham Young and his 
saints, he was not fit to exist,” replied the Mexican, 
hotly. 

“ According to that, the old patriarchs should all 
have been blotted out. They, too, had revelations 
direct from Heaven, Pedro.” 

“ But, my dear sir, I am inclined to believe that the 
revelations made to the Mormons are direct from 
hades.” 

“ Oh, you are prejudiced !” said the Professor. 
“ What Mormonism attempts is simply to graft the 
Mosaic economy into the institutions of modern 
society. They believe in the Bible more fully and 
completely than you do.” 

“ Yes, in the Old Testament, I know. But look at 
their converts, and the work they are doing there. 
They are gathered from the most ignorant classes in all 
parts of the world. Their missionaries, I am told, go 
to Europe every year and pick up their recruits from 
among the poor and ignorant. These people they 


140 


MURDER WILL OUT. 


delude with the promise of their becoming, in' time, 
rich and prosperous farmers. . They gain them, too, by 
appealing directly to the passions of avarice and lust, 
which are so strong in the lower classes.” 

“ But, my dear Pedro, if Christians were as earnest 
and zealous in their belief as Mormons are in theirs, 
they would revolutionize the whole world.” 

“ Perhaps you are right, but you forget that the 
elders teach their people to have a firm belief in hell. 
Fear is the key-note of their religion. I do not believe 
that Mormon women care to share their marital rights 
any more than do their Gentile sisters, but they do it 
for their soul’s sake. They believe that they have 
direct commands from God to that effect. I assure you 
I have witnessed a heart-rending scene when it became 
the turn of one of these women to see her husband 
select another woman.” 

“ All that may be,” returned the Professor ; “ yet, 
my dear sir, Utah is one of the most orderly cities on 
this continent, and with the exception of the blot of 
polygamy we have not a better class of citizens, in 
spite of their differences of race and habits.” 

“ Let us hope, Professor,” said Pedro, “ that when 
the Pacific Railroad becomes a fact, and their inter- 
course with the outside world is thus made more fre- 
quent and thorough, Mormonism will die a natural 
'death.” 

“My dear brother, I fear you will stand a poor 


MURDER WILL OUT. 


141 


chance of making converts from among the Mor- 
mons.” 

11 Undoubtedly ; for like Turks, they are hard to 
convert. Brigham Young, like Mahomet, knew that 
an appeal to the grosser passions of mankind would 
ensure him many followers.” 

The Professor joined in the laugh with which 
Norris greeted this earnest though somewhat bitter 
speech of the Mexican ; who, seeing that the two 
already fraternized, excused himself, saying that he 
had important business to attend to in the town, which 
would occupy him for an hour or two. Professor 
Hobart had instructed Pedro to absent himself from 
the room on some pretext after dinner. 

The opportune moment had arrived. The two gen- 
tlemen sat opposite each other smoking quietly, and 
each apparently cccupied in his own thoughts. An 
occasional observation was made, but conversation 
was not brisk. The Mesmerist looked his man full in 
the face. Presently Norris’ eyes took on a dreamy, 
far-away expression, and in a few moments he had 
sunk into a mesmeric slumber. His eyes were open, 
but intelligence was lacking ; the brain was dormant 
and waited the magician’s touch to rouse it to activ- 
ity ; the tongue was tied and the Professor alone could 
loosen it. 

By this time Pedro, who was anxious and ill at ease, 
had opened the library door ; the Professor motioned 


MURDER WILL OUT. 


142 

the Mexican to enter. Taking a seat he quietly waited 
for his friend to commence operations. After a search- 
ing look at the unconscious man, the Professor was 
satisfied that he might proceed, and he said in a low 
monotone : 

“ Richard Norris, your wife is dead ; I claim my 
reward.” 

The lips of the sleeping man quivered, as he 
answered : 

“ You shall have all that I promised you, Jose 
Castro, if she is dead, before the sun rises over Diab- 
olos Mountain.” 

Pedro sprang to his feet and was about to speak, 
but the Professor placed his fingers on his lips and 
motioned him to be silent. After a few passes ove** 
the face of the sleeping man, the Mesmerist asked : 

“ Did you see Castro shoot your wife ?” 

“ Yes, I saw him stand for a few moments at the 
window before he fired. But I fixed him. I killed him. 
Dead men tell no tales, and Castro has his reward. 
He is silenced forever. That’s the way we Danites do 
in Utah.” 

Pedro could no longer control himself ; with a howl 
of rage he rushed at Norris, exclaiming : 

“ I knew I was right, you accursed Mormon !” 

The Professor recalled the unconscious man from 
his trance, and when he awoke he saw bending over 
him the face of the enfuriated Mexican, who looked 































































1> 































Ait* ^ ,x 










. M »«4»:4*v*yvy^«‘ 


Mi 


HE SHOT PEDRO THROUGH THE HEART. See p. 143 





MURDER WILL OUT. 


143 


the vengeance he felt. Springing to his feet, Norris 
demanded : 

“ What is the matter ? Why do you look at me 
thus ?” 

Pedro folded his arms, and, looking his brother-in- 
law full in the face, he ejaculated scornfully : 

“ Traitor! Murderer! Mormon and accursed 
Danite ! You hired Castro to shoot my sister?” 

“ Dog of a Mexican ; you shall die with that lie 
in your throat !” cried Norris, and deliberately taking 
a revolver from his pocket he shot Pedro through the 
heart. 

Professor Hobart caught the Mexican in his arms 
as he fell. Pedro attempted to speak, but the effort 
was too much. A dark red stream flowed from his 
mouth and choked the words that he would have 
uttered. He gave the Professor a look of agony, and 
expired, leaving his dying request unspoken. 

The housekeeper heard the report of the revolver, 
and remarked to the other servants that Sefior Norris 
was firing off his pistol. It was no uncommon thing 
for him to discharge his revolver when he desired to 
clean it, which he always did for himself, so that no 
one was surprised by this occurrence, and no further 
attention was paid to the matter. Thus it happened 
that Professor Hobart was the only witness of Pedro’s 
tragic death. 

After he had fired the shot, Norris ran from the 


144 


MURDER WILL OUT. 


room, rushed up stairs and entered the large and 
sumptuously-furnished apartment that had been his 
wife’s private sitting-room. This room opened into a 
handsome chamber. Norris entered the latter apart- 
ment, and, taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, he 

4 

unlocked the first closet and then the small iron sate 
which was in it. He took out several large jewel 
cases, which he hastily opened. The light that flashed 
from the jewels fairly dazzled the man for an instant 
as he lifted them to the light. These jewels had 
belonged to his wife. They were set in a pin, ear- 
rings and bracelets, and were large diamonds of the 
purest water. In fact, they were far more valuable 
than the amount of the legacy which his wife had left 
him. 

Hurriedly thrusting the jewels into his inside coat 
pocket, he opened the upper drawer and took out a 
roll of bills. Then he caught up a valise, which he 
had already packed in anticipation of a hasty journey, 
and ran down stairs. 

Meanwhile Professor Hobart had laid the body of 
Pedro Ramirez on the sofa when he heard Norris’ 
footsteps in the passage, and quickly opening the 
library-door, by an adroit movement, he placed him- 
self between the murderer and the outer door. 

Looking the Professor calmly in the face, Norris 
said in the most ordinary tone of voice : 

“ Will you allow me to pass ?” 


MURDER WILL ODT. 


145 


“ Ce-tainly not ; your brother-in-law is dead. If 
you doubt my word, go and see for yourself.” 

“ I do not in the least doubt your assertion. The 
man insulted me, and I am perfectly justified in killing 
him.” 

i 

“ You have no right to leave this house in this way, 
and I will not allow it.” 

“Stop me at the peril of your life,” cried Norris, 
drawing his revolver and pointing it at the head of 
the unarmed Professor, who saw that he had a 
desperate man to deal with. 

The two men eyed each other for a moment. Nor- 
ris had murder in his eye and Professor Hobart felt 
that he could do nothing. 

“ Sir,” he said, “ you may escape human law ; but 
the brand of Cain is upon you, and sooner or later 
you will be overtaken by Divine wrath and justice.” 

Norris responded with a sneer : 

“You believe that ‘murder will out.’ I have lived 
to know that only fools suffer from an inconvenient 
conscience. A wise man will not betray himself. 
But my time is precious. Adios, Seflor ;” and in 
another second the hall door had closed upon the 
guilty man. 

Professor Hobart was so completely amazed at the 
coolness and audacity of the murderer, that for a 
moment he could neither move nor speak. Recovering 
himself in an instant, however, he called loudly for 


9 


146 


MURDER WILL OUT. 


assistance. Mrs. Miles ran down the stairs in gieat 
haste to see what was the cause of the unusual 
clamor. When she was told what had happened, she 
was wild with grief and indignation. 

“ O, sir, go after him ?” she exclaimed. Do not, 
I beg of you, allow that man to escape.” 

The good woman wept over the body of the young 
man as a mother would weep over that of her child. 
She loved him very dearly, having been for years in 
the family. She hated Norris as much as she loved 
his victim. She felt he was to blame for the sorrows 
and miseries which had befallen both brother and 
sister. 

While she was weeping over the body of the dead, 
Professor Hobart was doing his best to repair his 
neglect in letting the murderer escape. He walked 
as far as Clay and Montgomery streets, but could see 
nothing of Norris. In despair at his escape, the Pro- 
fessor entered the first police station he came to and 
told the particulars of the tragedy. The Captain of 
the precinct listened to his story with great attention, 
but when he started to return to the house he was 
informed that he would be detained as a witness ; and 
until the assassin was discovered, the law would hold 
him accountable for the murder. The Professor was 
thunderstruck and not a little indignant. He, how- 
ever, asked and obtained permission Ur give bail. He 
immediately sent for a friend — Dr. Post, a noted 


MURDER WILL OUT. 


147 


physician of San Francisco — who became his bonds- 
man. 

When the doctor had listened to his friend’s story 
of the affair, he was very much alarmed for his safety. 
He knew very well that, should Norris escape, there 
was very little hope that the Professor could prove his 
innocence ; he had not a witness to produce in his 
favor. 

The two gentlemen appeared, however, the next 
morning at the Coroner’s inquest. Mrs. Miles testified 
to hearing the shot fired, but said that, as Norris was 
in the habit of firing his pistol in the grounds, she 
thought nothing of it. “In fact,” she said, “until I 
heard Professor Hobart calling, I did not know that 
anything unusual had occurred.” 

The Professor then told his story, which was lis- 
tened to with doubt until Sam Sing, a Chinese servant 
in the house, came forward and exclaimed, ex- 
citedly : 

“ Melican man no telle stoly. Master Melican man 
shoote Master Pedro. Sam Sing saw him takee pistol 
— and it go bang, and Master Pedro fall in this Meli- 
can man’s arms.” 

'Phis created a sensation ; and the Coroner asked 
Sam Sing where he was when Norris fired. 

“ Sam Sing lookee inee windlee. Me fraidee Meli- 
can man killee me, and me hidee.” 

The Chinaman’s story turned the scale in favor of 




148 


MURDER WILL OUT. 


Professor Hobart. The Coroner’s Jury brought in a 
verdict that Pedro Ramirez came to his death 
from a pistol-shot fired by Richard Norris. 

The detectives made diligent search, but they failed 
to find the murderer. The Mayor of San Francisco 
offered a reward of five hundred dollars for his arrest, 
and Sefior Juan Ramirez, the cousin and heir-at-law 
of the murdered man, offered two thousand dollars, 
and also sent a detective to Utah to search for him 
there. 

That keen hunter of outlaws returned from Utah 
with the intelligence that no such man as Richard 
Norris had been seen in Utah. The detective, in spite 
of his fruitless search and of Brigham Young’s 
politeness and apparent desire to give him informa- 
tion, felt certain that the Mormon High-priest was 
shielding the criminal. He knew of not a few cases 
where this had been done. Bill Hickman, a noted 
Danite, who, according to his own confession, com- 
mitted nineteen murders, was always a Mormon in 
good and regular standing throughout his career, and 
was a member of the Utah Legislature at the time 
when he was killing men, in obedience to the mandates 
of the “ Council,” every few months. 

As far as the San Francisco authorities were con- 
cerned, this was an end of the case against Richard 
Non'is. As long as he did not make his appearance 
in California he was safe. The officers of the law felt 


MURDER WILL OUT. 


140 


perfectly sure that they had been hood-winked ; but 
it was an every-day occurrence for outlaws and crim- 
inals to escape to Utah ; and once they became 
members of the Mormon church they were screened 
and protected by the Saints. 


(50 


ERNEST YAN TINE’S WESTERN HOME. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

ERNEST VAN TINE’S WESTERN HOME. 

Five years had elapsed since Ernest Van Tine left 
the “Keystone State” to better his condition. He 
located in Nevada, not far from the famous Comstock 
Vein, where he built a snug log-cabin, consisting of 
four good-sized rooms. He made his quarters as 
comfortable as possible, adding every year some little 
convenience. About a quarter of a mile from the 
house he had built a blacksmith shop. Here he had 
all the work he could do from the miners, pointing 
drills and picks, shoeing their horses, and a thousand 
other bits of work. His forge, in fact, was never idle, 
and the ring of his hammer could be heard from 
morning till night. 

The miners came of all nations and religions, and 
were always sure of a welcome at the blacksmith shop. 
Had there been an artist on the spot he might have 
painted many a quaint picture of the various groups 
around Van Tine’s forge. Here John Chinaman hob- 
nobbed with a hot-headed Irishman ; half-civilized 
Ute Indians held friendly conversations with sturdy 
Germans ; or four or five plainsmen, in their pic* 


ERNEST VAN TINEAS WESTERN HOME. 15 1 

turesque garb, held an animated conversation among 
themselves. Over and about this motley collection of 
men the light of the forge fire flickered and danced, 
lighting the faces of the men, hiding itself among the 
brown rafters, or lurking in the dark corners, as its 
gleams of flame flashed in and out. 

Here the miners were accustomed to meet to dis- 
cuss the affairs of the camp during the long, dull 
afternoons ; or, when their work was completed, they 
brought their tools for repairs. Thus it had come 
about that the blacksmith’s shop was always a favorite 
place of resort. 

It chanced, however, that on the morning of De- 
cember 2 3, 1869, Ernest Van Tine was alone in his 
domain, having sent his workman to the mine with 
some tools that were wanted for immediate use. 
While he looked over another lot of irons the smith 
sang in a ricn and hearty voice the song of his craft : 

* Old Tubal Cain was a man of might, 

In the days when the earth was young; 

By the fierce red light of his furnace bright, 

The strokes of his hammer rung ; 

And he lifted high his brawny hand 
On the iron flowing clear, 

Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet route. 

As he fashioned the sword and spear. 

And he sang, ‘ Hurrah for my handiwork ! 

Hurrah for the spear and sword ! 

Hurrah, for the hand that shall wield them well ! 

For he shall be king and lord.’ ” 


152 


ERNEST VAN TINE S WESTERN HOME. 


“ Pshaw !” thought Ernest, “ I don’t like the words 
of that song ; they sound too much of war and blood- 
shed. Give me the industrious miller’s song instead 
and he hummed : 

“ I care for nobody, no, not I ; 

And nobody cares for me.” 

“What a selfish idea!” again soliloquized Ernest. 
“A man must care for somebody ; if he doesn’t, he is 
not fulfilling the mission the Great Artificer intended 
for him. And besides, a man should care a little for 
everybody who deserves it. I give the best gifts of 
my head, heart and hands to the dear- ones at home 
Yes, I have every reason to be a happy man ; I have a 
dear wife and a sweet little girl, I am doing a prosper- 
ous business and I have health and strength. And 
yet, in spite of all my happiness, I feel at times 
strangely depressed. I declare, I sometimes think that 
I must be going crazy. Though I saw Dick Melton 
buried, the face of that wretch who shot poor Jack 
Wilson haunts me, until I almost believe they must 
be one and the same man. The idea is simply ridicu- 
lous !” And here Ernest wound up his reflections 
with a powerful blow, and at the same moment his 
wife appeared at the door with a small basket on her 
arm. 

“ Oh, Emma, how you startled me !” 

“ Am I so frightful, then ?” asked his wife, with a 
saucy, loving glance at her husband. 


ERNEST VAN TINE’S WESTERN HOME. 153 

“ No, dear,” responded her husband, with some 
seriousness ; “ you are far more beautiful in my eyes 
than when I married you.” 

Mrs. Van Tine looked searchingly into her hus- 
band’s face. “ Ernest,” she said, “ has anything hap- 
pened ? You don’t look quite yourself.” 

“ Yes ; old Granger has refused to pay me for the 
irons of his new wagon, and I am furious.” 

“Nonsense, dear; we shall not eat one mouthful 
the less, nor will our sleep be disturbed by his refusal 
to pay for his work.” 

“ No, darling, no,” replied Ernest. “ Heaven 
bless your cheerful face. I ought to be the happiest 
smith that ever swung a hammer. Where is the little 
one?” 

“ At home, asleep,” replied Emma. “ The poor little 
thing is overcome with fatigue after the excitement of 
her party. She was never out of her bed so late 
before. But come, sir, what are you thinking of? 
See, I have brought you your dinner.” The active 
little woman cleared some iron implements from the 
table that stood in a corner of the shop and spread a 
clean towel on it, and then set out the dinner she had 
brought. When the basket was empty she said : 
“Come and eat, dear, before everything is quite cold.” 

“ Never mind the dinner, it will keep, and I am in 
a talkative mood at this moment. Let us speak of 
the old times Do you remember the day the old 
7 * 


154 


ERNEST VAN TINEAS WESTERN HOME. 


regiment returned to York ? We hardly thought that 
day that you and I would ever be man and wife ?” 

“Ah, I never dreamed of such a thing; my 
thoughts were then with the dead. But why conjure 
up these gloomy recollections ?” 

“ Gloomy ? Why, Emma, the sun rose upon my 
life from that day.” 

“ I gave you scarcely a thought the day of your 
return. My heart was with him who slept beneath 
Virginia’s soil.” 

“True, but it was a glorious death — to die for 
one’s country. His was a sacrifice that will always be 
remembered with gratitude and reverence.” 

“ Come, Ernest, eat your dinner before it gets too 
cold to be good for anything,” said Emma, wishing 
to turn the conversation from a subject that seemed to 
make her husband unhappy. 

Ernest sat down to the table and began to eat. 
“ This is very tasty, dear ; what is it ?” 

“Mutton stew — your favorite dish.” 

“ So it is ; and I am just hungry enough to eat like 
a bear.” , 

“ Will you not come home to dinner to-morrow, 
Ernest ?” 

“ Possibly.” 

“ I will take no excuse. Work or no work, you 
must come home and eat your dinner with Daisy and 
myself,” said Emma, with a sigh. 


ERNEST VAN TINEAS WESTERN HOME. 155 

“ Why, little woman, that is the first sigh I have 
heard from you since our mai riage.” 

“ I have no cause, Ernest. I was only thinking of 
the past.” 

“ Which to you and to me has not been all sun- 
shine ; but now the sky looks clear, does it not ?” 

“ Yes, dear. Do you know that to-day is the anni- 
versary of my first marriage ?” 

“What a change has been wrought since that day.” 
Ernest had finished his dinner, and he now rose and, 
putting one arm around his wife’s waist, he continued, 
lovingly : “ My darling, do you regret the past ?” 

“ I do not, my dear husband ; we have been very, 
very happy together.” 

They stood a few moments lost in the joy of each 
other’s presence. Then Emma said : 

“ I promised to call on Mrs. Wood, who lives about 
a mile below the mine, and I had best start ; the after- 
noons are growing very short.” 

At this moment a childish voice was heard calling, 
“ Mamma, mamma !” and a golden-haired little girl, 
who had not yet seen her fourth summer, ran into the 
shop straight into her mother’s arms, holding up her 
sweet little mouth for a kiss. 

“ Is there no one else present ?” asked her father. 

The child ran at once to her father and kissed him. 
Catching her in his arms he asked, with a smile : 


156 


ERNEST VAN TINE’S WESTERN HOME. 


“Who’s baby are you ?” 

Daisy looked at her mother and answered : 

“ Me is Mamma’s.” 

“You naughty, ungrateful child ! Who is it that 
brings home candies and toys for you ?” 

Daisy laughed and kissed her father. 

“ Ou does,” she replied. 

“ Then whose baby are you ?” 

“Mamma’s,” still insisted the child. 

“ Of course you are Mamma’s ; but if you don’t 
love me I know another little girl that I shall buy 
candies for.” 

“ No, Papa, don’t ; I am your little girl,” said 
Daisy, fondly, kissing her father. 

“ Come, Daisy, Papa has his work to do. We will 
go and make our call and then come back and bring 
Papa home with us.” 

“Me come back for Papa,” said Daisy, placing her 
little hand in that of her mother, and throwing a kiss 
to her Papa with the other hand as they left the shop. 

Ernest looked after his wife, and the ghost of a 
smile lingered about his mouth as he muttered : 

“ Poor girl ; she remembers Dick kindly. No won- 
der, for they were married only a few months. Well, 
what was to be was to be, and it is of no use thinking 
of the past.” 

When his meditations had reached this point, the 
sound of advancing sleigh-bells reached his ears 


ERNEST VAN TINE'S WESTERN HOME. 


157 


“I hope that’s not Watson after his work, for it 
isn’t finished,” thought Van Tine, hastening to the 
door to see who it was who drove at such a furious 
i ate. It was a stranger, and he was whipping his 
horse without mercy. “ I am afraid that horse has 
picked up a nail,” he said to himself. 

As the driver approached, he shouted: “Hello, 
blacksmith !” 

“ Hello yourself ! What’s amiss ? Has your horse 
picked up a nail ?” 

“ No, dropped a shoe, and, I think, trod on a lump 
of ice. Can you put on a new shoe ?” answered the 
driver, as he drew rein and alighted. 

“ I can, stranger,” replied Van Tine. Taking the 
horse from the sleigh, he called to his workman, who 
had returned from the mines some time since, and told 
him to take the horse to the shed and cover him. 

“ He’s in a foam ; not used to driving, I think, 
sir?” 

“ I don’t know ; I only bought him lately.” 

“ Hurry up, Jack. Do you want the poor animal 
to take its death ?” 

“You are a friend of horses I see ?” 

“ Yes ; of all dumb animals. It’s my nature. Even 
when I was a child, if I saw a man belaboring an 
animal that cannot tell its wrongs or defend itself. I 
instinctively wanted to do the same thing to the man. 
It seems to me that only a coward would abuse so true 


/58 


ERNEST VAN TINE’S WESTERN HOME. 


a servant as the horse. But come, sir, you had best walk 
into the shop and make yourself comfortable while I 
shoe your horse.” 

“ Thank you, I will,” replied the stranger, passing 
into the shop. 

As Ernest looked at the stranger a puzzled feeling 
came over him. It seemed to him that he was not 
wholly a stranger. His walk seemed familiar ; his face 
he had not seen, for he was muffled up to the eyes. 
But he put the matter from his thoughts and went 
out to attend to the shoeing of the horse. 

Meanwhile the stranger had entered the shop. He 
stood at the forge fire for a moment, and then walked 
to the window and watched the smith as he bent over 
the horse’s foot. 

“ I must be dreaming,” muttered the stranger ; 
“ he cannot be the man for whom I take him, though 
his resemblance to my friend is very marked. I must 
find out who he is before I depart.” 

The stranger, thus soliloquizing, stood still watch- 
ing Van Tine’s every movement, his thoughts busy 
with the past. 


TIIE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS. 


159 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS. 

When Van Tine had finished setting the shoe he 
came into the shop and went on with his work there. 
The stranger did not seem to be in any hurry to 
depart. Pie still wore his wraps around his throat 
and face in a way that would have made a suspicious 
man fancy that he was either ashamed or afraid to 
have his face seen. 

As his ‘patron seemed to have lost the haste which 
had characterized his coming, for he turned to the 
forge fire and stood quietly warming his hands, 
Ernest offered him a cigar. 

The man refused it politely, saying : 

“ Thanks, but I seldom indulge in the weed. By 
the way, I once knew this place, but I do not remem- 
ber seeing this shop before.” 

“ No, there was an old house here, with a smaller- 
pointed-roofed one near it, when I came to these 
parts, some five years ago.” 

“ Can you tell me who lives in that new log- "house 
up the road ?” 


1G0 


THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBAND9. 


“Yes, I built that before I put up this shop. Do 
you know any one in these parts ?” 

“ I did when I first lived in Utah about five years 
ago. The fact is I’ve led a wandering and somewhat 
romantic life for the last few years.” 

“ Romance — pray tell me a bit of it ? I am fond of 
stories of adventure, and the more highly spiced they 
are, the better I like them,” returned the blacksmith, 
with a smile, unconsciously playing into his enemy’s 
hands. 

“ Well, if you like a story, I do not mind giving 
you one ; and I don’t believe you will find it in the 
least dull either.” 

The smith put down his work, and, leaning against 
a bench, prepared to listen to the promised story. 

“ My early life was uneventful and not worth talk- 
ing about. The first event of importance in my life 
was when I enlisted in the army, during the first year 
of the War of the Rebellion. I was in more than one 
battle, but I did not receive a scratch until the Battle 
of the Wilderness ; there I was wounded and taken 
prisoner, and sent to Andersonville prison, where I 
remained until the spring of 1865, when the war closed. 

“After I was liberated, and before I was fit to 
travel, chance threw in my way an old Philadelphia 
paper, in which I read the names of the regiments as 
they returned home, with their lists of the dead be- 
longing to each one. My name was in one of those 


THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS. 


161 


lists. I immediately wrote home, but received no 
answer. After several unsuccessful attempts to get 
some direct communication from my wife, or my old 
home, I gave up. Daspair seized me. I drifted into 
Texas and joined a party of cow-boys, with whom I 
went into the Territories. We bought and sold cattle 
and led a free, roaming life, which I greatly enjoyed. 

I had been with the boys about a year and enjoyed 
their confidence to such a degree that they made me 
their secretary. 

“ We prospered during our year of partnership, 
and had a number of orders for cattle from the 
owners of the various ranches in Southern California, 
which we tried to execute to every one’s satisfaction. 

“We would have accumulated a fortune if we had 
not met Senor Matteo and his band of outlaws.” 

“ I thought that Indians were the only enemies 
that drovers had to contend with,” said Ernest Van 
Tine. 

“ You are mistaken ; the Mexican brigand is often 
more troublesome. These Greasers are born thieves, 
and the majority of them would cut your throat for 
a dollar.” 

“You speak strongly against them,” interrupted 
Ernest. 

“ 1 have good reason to do so,” replied the traveler, 
« for six or seven of my friends were killed by thoie 

robbers. They stole a drove of splendid cattle which 
10 


102 


THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS. 


we were driving to a ranch in the neighborhood. I 
was the only one of the party that escaped. Matteo 
took a fancy to me, and when he found I had been a 
soldier, he proposed to me to join his band. Certain- 
ly such a course was preferable to death ; and I made 
the best of a bad bargain, and became the leader’s first 
lieutenant until I could find an opportunity to escape. 

“ One day we attacked the Los Angeles coach and 
killed all the passengers except the only lady aboard 
the stage whose husband was with her and had been 
killed. I believe they let the driver off too, a most 
foolish proceeding on the part of our band. At least, 
I believe it greatly endangered their safety, for he was 
a plucky man who could remember an injury. 

“The next day or two, I kept a sharp lookout and 
soon saw my chance. Aided by Matteo’s wife, who 
was also his captive, and his wife against her will, I 
escaped and took the two women with me. We 
reached San Francisco in safety. I remained there for 
some time, but after some personal adventures which 
would not interest you” — 

“ How came you to these parts ?” questioned Van 
l ine, as the strange man paused in his narrative. 

“1 am on my way to inspect some mining property 
in this region.” 

Ernest stood for a little wHle lost in thought ; then 
he asked, abruptly : 

“ Hid you never hear from your wife ?” 


THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS. 


163 


“ No, never ; although I have written to her several 
times. I should like to hear something of the boys of 
my regiment, too ; there was not a finer body of men 
in General Meade’s command than the gallant ‘Penn- 
sylvania Tenth.’ ” 

Ernest dropped the hammer which he had in his 
hand and stared at the stranger. 

“ The what ?” he gasped. 

“The Tenth Pennsylvania. Did you know the 
regiment ?” 

“ I have heard that they were a brave set of men,” 
he answered, evasively. Then he turned full upon the 
the man and asked, sharply : “ Did you know them 

all ?” 

“Yes, from the colonel to the drummer boy.” 

“ Did you know Dick Melton ?” 

“Of course, I did — that is, I have seen him ; and so 
may you if you will look this way, for I am he,” re- 
plied the stranger, with a laugh, throwing the woollen 
comforter from his face as he spoke. 

For a few moments the room whirled, and Ernest 
staggered like a man who had received a blow. When 
he had recovered himself a little, he turned to the man 
who had so plainly declared his identity, and said, half 
angrily : 

“You Dick Melton? I cannot, I will not believe 
it. But perhaps there were two men of the same 


164 


TTTE WIFE OF TWO IIUSBAND8. 


name in the regiment,” he added, his face brightening 
a little. 

“Why do you say that? No, I am sure that I was 
the only man of that name in the regiment.” 

“You say you had a wife?” 

“ Yes.” 

“Tell me her name; quick, man; tell me her name!” 

“ Emma Church.” 

“God in Heaven pity and help me !’* groaned the 
stricken man, as he dropped upon the bench and hid 
his face in his hands. 

“Why, man, what is the matter? Why does my 
story affect you so much ? Who are you !” 

“ Can it be, Dick Melton, that you do not recognize 
me ?” exclaimed Ernest. 

After a searching look, the other asked : 

“Is it possible that you are my old friend and 
comrade, Ernest Van Tine ?” 

“ Am I, then, so changed ?” asked Ernest, sadly. 

“ No, but you are the last person that I should 
have expected to run across. Old boy, I am more 
than glad to see you !” and Melton held out his hand. 

“ Don’t ask me ; I cannot shake hands with you. I 
have to tell you the horrible truth. It will kill you or 
drive you mad ;” 

“ Nonsense speak out ; I am not so easily driven 
mad. Is my wife dead ? Speak, I can stand the 
blow.” 
































% 



















% 


I 




















































V 















HE MADE A SPRING TOWARDS MELTON. P. 165. 


THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS. 


165 


Van Tine’s eyes blazed with scorn for a moment, 
Then he answered : 

“Would to Heaven that she were, and that I, and 
you, too — yes, and the whole world, were engulfed in 
a universal ruin.” 

As Melton looked at the bowed figure of his friend 
and heard his wild words, the thought that the man must 
be crazy took possession of him ; he could not account 
in any other way for his strange behavior. He said 
nothing, but looked at him in silence. 

The silence which had lasted for a long time was 
broken by the sound of a childish voice calling* 
“ Papa. ! Papa !” 

The voice of the child roused the father from his 
painful thoughts. He started up, exclaiming : 

“ Oh, here she comes.” Then he muttered to him- 
self : “ What if with one blow of my hammer I should 
dash out his brains !” 

There flashed forth from the smith’s eyes the spirit 
of Cain — he thirsted for his rival’s blood, and for one 
brief moment he was quite capable of murder. Seiz- 
ing a sledge-hammer, he made a spring towards Mel- 
ton, who was now convinced he had to deal with a mad- 
man. He was in the act of drawing his revolver when 
the figures of Emma Van Tine and her little daughter 
darkened the doorway. 

Ernest let the hammer fall from his hand. He 
went hastily across the shop, and taking his wife 


166 


THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS. 


roughly by the arm, led her to where the stranger was 
standing. 

“ Do you know that man ?” he asked, sternly. 

The startled woman gave Dne glance at the man 
and then shrunk away from him towards Ernest. 
“Dick, Dick Melton !” she exclaimed, in great agita- 
tion, as she sank to her knees and clasped her hands. 
Her fate had completely overcome her. 

“Good Heavens ! what does all this mean ?” Then 
suddenly he stooped and raised the kneeling woman. 
“Tell me,” he commanded, “ what is that man to you ?” 
For the first time the real truth of the matter forced 
itself upon his mind. 

But the woman was dumb. She stared at him in 
mute agony. 

“No answer from you?” cried the infuriated man. 
“From you, then,” he said, turning to Van Tine, “I 
will have an answer from you, or I will have your 
life.” 

“You may take it,” exclaimed Ernest. “Life will 
only be a burden to me from this time. All the joy of 
my life is shattered in this moment. For what sins I 
am thus punished, I know not. Woman, if you have a 
spark of feeling do not stand there like a stone ; 
answer that man’s question.” 

“ He is my husband,” rep ied Emma, with tears in 
her eyes, which were at that moment full of the light 
of the purest, truest love for Ernest. The next 


THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS. 


167 


instant she sprang back, her face dyed with a vivid 
blush, for she realized that she stood before these two 
men as the wife of both. 

Suddenly she turned and faced Ernest, saying, halt 
reproachfully, half angrily : 

“ You told me that you helped to bury my husband 
in Virginia.” 

“ I did not tell you a lie — at least, not an inten- 
tional one, dear. We buried a headless body on which 
was Richard’s jacket, with one of your letters in the 
pocket. Certainly we had no reason to suppose that 
it was not he, particularly as we never heard or saw 
anything of him after the battle.” 

“ That is easily explained,” interrupted Melton. 
“ You buried Williamson ; he had his head torn off by 
the explosion of a shell during the first day of the 
fight, and I threw him my jacket which lay on the 
gun-carriage ; Emma’s last letter was in its pocket. 
We were ordered to change our position, if you 
remember, during the second or third day of the fight, 
and when the woods caught fire I lost sight of you, 
Van Tine. I was wounded in the arm, and the smoke 
from the burning wood was so intense that one could 
not distinguish friend from foe. 

“ Williamson, myself and several more of our men, 
while we were trying to get our guns out of the burn- 
ing debris, ran into the Confederate lines and we were 
all taken prisoners, except poor Williamson, whose 


108 


THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS. 


head was blown off a few minutes before our capture. 
He stood near me and I saw him fall.” 

“ Why did you not return to claim your wife ?” 
demanded Van Tine, indignantly. “Any man who 
had an atom of honor would have done so.” 

“ Because, as I have already told you, I was in the 
heart of the Southern country, ill and without a dol- 
lar. Of course, as a discharged prisoner of war, I 
could have demanded to be sent to my native State. 
But before I was able to travel, I wrote repeatedly to 
my wife, and, receiving no reply, I thought that she 
must be dead. I wanted her to join me and go to the 
West and there make ourselves a home.” 

“ I never received a line from you, Richard ; had 
I done so I should have joined you at once,” inter- 
rupted Emma, giving Melton a searching look. 

Here the little one, who was frightened at the 
trouble she saw in the usually happy faces she loved 
so well, began to cry : 

“Mamma, oh, mamma !” 

“ Here, child !” exclaimed Ernest, the wild angei 
in his heart finding vent for the moment, in cruel and 
unjust words. “You have no mother,” and he caught 
his little daughter in his arms and held her to his 
heart. 

“ Oh, do not take my child from me,” pleaded the 
unfortunate mother. “Do not kill me in that slow 
fashion ; take some quicker way. Ernest, by the 


THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS. 


1G'J 


memory of the happy days we have passed together ; 
by the love you have received and given, do not sepa- 
rate me from my child !” 

“ What, is it not terrible enough to live and know 
that you are the wife of another ? Must I live and 
know that she learns to call him ‘ father ’? No, 
no ; I had rather that she lay here dead before our 
eyes.” 

For an instant Ernest held the child away from 
her mother, the fire of madness gleaming in his eyes ; 
then the thorough goodness of his nature prevailed. 
He gently kissed the little one and laid her in her 
mother’s arms. Then, turning to his former friend, 
and offering him his hand, he said : 

“ Dick, you asked me to shake hands a few 
moments ago and I refused ; will you take my hand 
now ? I have wronged you, Richard,” he continued, 
as his hand closed on that of his now guilty, but once 
worthy friend, “ but it was not a willful wrong. My 
punishment will be heavy. We loved the same girl. 
She preferred you and she married you ; and I blessed 
you both in my heart. From that day I strove to 
think of her only as your wife, until I knew that I 
could honorably seek her again. Providence or 
chance threw us together. She saved my life, and 
nursed me through a terrible illness. I asked her to 
become my wife. Why should I not ? I loved her 
then as I had always loved her ; and you, I thought, 
8 


170 


THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS. 


had found a resting-place forever in Southern soil. 
We were married and we have been happy together. 
I have been kind to her and tried in every way I knew 
to make life easy and pleasant for her. See that you 
continue that kindness when she is yours to cherish 
and protect.” 

“I shall do so,” answered Richard Melton, as 
Ernest paused and looked at him for a reply. At the 
same time, a flush of shame tinged his face — shame 
for this invasion of his friend’s fireside. In his heart 
he knew that this woman was the lawful wife of 
Ernest Van Tine. He knew that he had willfully 
deserted her and had married another woman while 
he was not certain that his other wife was dead. 
He knew very well that he had thus forfeited all 
moral, religious, and even legal right to call her his 
wife. But at the sight of her richer and fuller beauty, 
his old passion for her had revived. It was impossible 
for this man to feel a deep, pure love for any woman, 
and so he held his peace. 

While he had listened to his old friend’s honest, 
loving words, he had, for a moment, debated in his 
own mind whether he should not tell them the truth, 
go away and leave them in peace. But with Dick 
Norris, as with Dick Melton, conscience had power 
only to give him a momentary twinge, and when 
Ernest took his hand and, placing Emma’s within it, 


THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS. 


171 


prayed God to bless and keep them both, he accepted 
the sacrifice without a word, and listened calml> to 
his friend’s finai noble words : 

“ I will leave you, Richard, to your wife, and to 
the happiness that she will bring to you. Emma, 
while you are happy and prosperous, you must teach 
our little girl to think of me as of one who is dead ; 
but if you should ever need my help, and I know 
it, I shall shield and protect you. Oh, my darling ! 
Oh, my darling !” Overcome with the sense of his love 
and his loss, he caught wife and child in his arms, and 
held them in a long and close embrace. 

“Farewell, my love, my wife,” he said, as he 
looked for what he knew might be the last time into 
her sweet eyes and covered her face with kisses. 
“When we meet again, may it be where there is no 
marriage or giving in marriage, but all is joy and peace 
and happiness.” And with one last kiss, such as one 
may give only to the dead, he placed Daisy in her 
mother’s arms and hurried from the place. 

The heart-broken woman put down her little girl 
and reached out her arms for him whom she loved far 
better than her own life ; and when she realized that 
he had bidden her farewell, she uttered a cry of bitter 
agony and fell back 'n a swoon which was so deep that 
Richard Melton almost believed her to be dead. Find- 
ing, however, that she still breathed, he left her there 


172 


THE WIFE OF TWO UU8BANDS. 


with little Daisy calling : “ Mamma, open your eyes !” 
went and brought the horse and sleigh to the door, 
lifted the unconscious woman and the frightened child 
into the sleigh, and then drove rapidly away. 


emma’s journey to utah. 


173 


l CHAPTER XVI. 

EMMA’S JOURNEY TO UTAH. 

When Emma recovered consciousness, she had left 
her old happy home behind her forever. She found 
herself, with her child by her side, sitting in the sleigh 
with her husband — for so we must now call Richard 
Melton — and gliding rapidly away from the scene of 
her happy life. 

When the full recollection of all that had passed 
came to her mind, she for the first time shed the tears 
that were so much needed to give her overtasked 
heart relief. After she had once more become quiet, 
she began, like a brave woman, to look her position 
squarely in the face. She saw that she must struggle 
to put the happiness of the past entirely away from 
her thoughts, if she would do her duty to the man 
who now claimed her as his lawful wife. 

She felt it would be impossible for her to ever for- 
get entirely Ernest Van Tine, for he was a man of such 
noble attributes, that he had won the whole love of 
her heart. She shuddered as she thought she must 
learn to live without him. 

Emma was stunned by the terrible position in 


174 


emma’s journey to utah. 


which she found herself placed, and she had not suffi- 
cient strength of character to fight against her first 
husband taking forcible possession of her. The heart- 
broken woman felt like a prisoner in the hands of a 
strong jailor, and silently submitted to her unhappy 
fate. 

They made the journey to Utah as rapidly as pos- 
sible, stopping only to eat and sleep at the wayside 
inns. Melton — or Norris, as we may as well call him — 
treated Emma like a sister throughout the entire 
journey, only showing by his eager, admiring glances 
that the old charm of her presence was fast mastering 
him. Recognizing the country through which they 
were passing almost as fleetly as the wind itself, 
Emma suddenly asked Norris whither they were 
bound. 

“ For Salt Lake City,” was the laconic reply. 

“ Oh, Richard, why do you take me there ?” 

“ Because I am myself a Mormon.” 

“ You ? A Mormon ?” she exclaimed, in consterna- 
tion.” 

“Yes, Emma, I believe it to be the only true re- 
ligion.” 

“ Richard, have you forgotten all your early teach- 
ings ?” 

“ I never really had any settled religious belief. I 
went to church with my mother, but I had never joined 
any church until I became a Mormon.” 


emma's journey to tjtah. 175 

Emma shivered. “ How many wives have vou ?” 
she asked. 

“ None, besides yourself. You will have to be 
divorced from Ernest, I suppose, and then we can be 
sealed,” said Richard, with a look that caused her to 
shrink from him and say : 

“I should rather be divorced from you and return 
to Ernest, who is the father of my child.” 

“ Ernest Van Tine has left you, and you are in my 
care now. You will do well to obey me” answered 
Norris, sternly. 

Emma made no answer ; she pressed her little one 
to her aching heart, and though her lips quivered, she 
bravely kept back the tears. She fully realized that 
she had fallen into the power of a man who could — 
and who perhaps would — use it cruelly. 

“ How much you have changed, Richard !” she 
exclaimed at last, finishing the ejaculation with a 
weary sigh. 

“ Of course ; we all change as we grow older. 
You, too, have changed ; you are far more beautiful 
than you were in the old time, Emma.” And again 
his eyes sought hers with the look that made her 
shiver. “I have changed my name from Melton to 
Norris, too, so you must not be surprised when you 
hear me thus addressed,” he said, hurriedly, v hen he 
saw that he had alarmed her. 

“ Why did you do that ?” 


176 


EMMAS JOURNEY TO UTAH. 


“ Oh, I preferred the name of Norris ; I took it 
when I became an Avenging Angel.” 

“ An Avenging Angel ?” questioned Emma, in sur- 
prise. 

“ Yes, a Danite, as we are sometimes called. They 
are a body of men who rule in Utah ; their power is 
second only to the Prophet’s, for they are the keepers 
of his secrets.” 

“ I thought the Danites were a band of assassins.” 

“ That is what the Gentiles say, my dear. We are 
a very necessary body of men — necessary to the 
safety and well-being of this community, and of our 
religion.” 

The poor woman dared not pursue the subject 
further ; she felt a presentiment that if she did so the 
knowledge that she would receive would only add to 
her unhappiness. 

Emma was a charming woman, and Norris was 
anxious to make her a convert to the Mormon faith, 
in order to keep her by his side and have her at the 
head of his household. In spite of his friendship 
with Brigham Young, he had not settled down and 
established a home, as the generality of Mormons do. 
The Prophet had, however, overlooked this, because 
Norris was one of his most useful men, and one whom 
he could trust implicitly to do his bidding. He had 
regretted his loss exceedingly at the time Norris was 
captured by the brigands, and from his long absence 


emma’s journey to utah. 177 

had been given up as dead. Upon his return to Salt 
Lake he received a warm welcome from the Prophet, 
especially as Norris told a very clever story about his 
capture and escape from the Mexican robbers. 

Norris had returned to Utah a rich man. He had 
received a legacy, he said, from his uncle, who had 
died in St. Louis. The real source of his wealth was 
obtained from the sale of the Velasquez diamonds, 
which he had sold most advantageously during his 
visit to New York. 

After shooting Pedro Ramirez, and making his 
escape from Professor Hobart, as has already been 
related to the reader, Norris managed to elude pursuit 
very cleverly. In the valise that he took with him was 
a complete disguise. This he put on in the carriage 
on the way to the railway station. It was dusk and 
he hastily paid the driver, and ran for the train which 
he had just time to board before it started. Thus the 
description telegraphed by the San Francisco police 
an hour or two later did not answer to that of any 
passenger when the train arrived in Salt Lake City. 

Upon his arrival in that city Norris immediately 
took a carriage and drove to the house of a friend, 
several miles from the town. This friend was a devoted 
Mormon. Here he remained in perfect safety until 
after the San Francisco detectives had giver up their 
search. In the meantime he had written to Brigham 
Young, to ask that, if inquiries should be made for him, 


178 


EMMA S JOURNEY TO UTAH. 


to say that no such person had ever been known 
there. 

When all was quiet, and Norris believed himself to 
be safe from pursuit, he had appeared in Salt Lake, 
made his peace with the Prophet, and was reinstated 
in his old position. 

Soon after his return to Salt Lake City he purchased 
a handsome house, and set up a well-appointed 
establishment, which only lacked a woman’s presence 
to make it a real home. 

He also invested heavily in silver mines in Nevada, 
in which President Young was the principal owner, 
and which were being worked with marked success. 
He was on the way to these mines when his horse cast 
his shoe ; which circumstance had led to a discovery 
that had caused much mischief, and brought much 
unhappiness to, at least, two loving hearts. 

Up to the moment of Earnest’s abrupt departure 
and Emma’s consequent swoon, Norris had formed no 
definite plan of proceeding. Then he conceived the 
idea of carrying his wife back to Salt Lake City at 
once. He was certain that she would refuse to go with 
him if she first learned that he was a Mormon ; so he 
seized her in her insensible condition, turned his horse’s 
head in the opposite direction, and made the best speed 
possible for Utah, trusting to his power of persuasion 
to make Emma consent to become a Mormon wife. 

He made himself extremely agreeable during the 


emma’s journey to utah. 


179 


journey, pointing out the objects of interests and divert 
ing her thoughts from her false position by a flow of 
pleasant conversation. 

The town itself, when they reached it, awoke 
Emma’s admiration, as it does that of all visitors. 
“The city is regularly laid out,” exclaimed Norris, “in 
squares of ten acres each, and those in turn into lots 
of an acre and a quarter each. They are only sub- 
divided in the most thickly-populated quarter.” 

“What is the material of which most of these 
houses are built ?” inquired Emma, interested in spite 
of herself. 

“ Sun-dried bricks, called adobe, and these are 
covered with plaster.” 

“ The houses are nearly all built with one or two 
stories, I observe ; but why do they have so many 
entrances ?” 

“ As a general thing, a house has as many doors as 
its owner has wives,” answered Norris, quietly. 

“Oh!” was Emma’s only reply. The truth was 
that she found it impossible to repress a shudder of 
disgust whenever she thought of the peculiar state of 
society existing in Utah. 

They drove through the business part of the town, 
and Norris pointed out to her the large retail shops, 
which were elegant both within and without. After a 
time he drove past a square which contained several 
dwellings, and a school-house. “This,” lie explained, 


180 


emma’s journey to ttah. 


“ is the Prophet’s establishment. Here is the school 
where his forty or fifty children are educated. Over 
yonder are his extensive stables, a grist mill, a car- 
penter shop, and there is the tithing office.” 

“What are those buildings on the opposite square ?” 

“ They are devoted to church purposes. There is 
the Temple, which exceeds in extent any other place 
of worship in the United States. Within that same 
enclosure is what we call ‘ The Bowery.’ ” 

“You mean that patch of green boughs!” ques- 
tioned Emma. 

“Yes; notice the immense space that they cover. 
An audience of several thousand people can be accom- 
modated within the enclosure. Sunday services are 
usually held here during the hot weather. You see 
that both these squares are enclosed with a stone 
wall.” 

“ How high are those walls ?” asked Emma ; “ they 
remind me of a prison.” 

“About twelve feet high, I suppose. You will 
soon grow accustomed to their use, for they enclose 
a great many of our buildings. In fact, we have a 
great many English ideas in Salt Lake, for we have a 
great many English people in our midst.” 

“Oh, Richard,” exclaimed Emma, putting her hand 
on his arm in a beseeching way, “I am afraid that I 
shall never be happy here !” 

“ Nonsense, little woman ! I promise you that you 


emma’s journey to utah. 


181 


shall be happy. I have the best because the first right 
to you. I will hurry up your divorce, we will be 
married again, and then your mind will be at ease.” 

“ But you will take other wives ; I could not endure 
that, Richard ; I warn you now that it would break my 
heart.” 

“ But I need not take any other wife, if I do not 
wish ; and I do not believe that I shall ever want to 
marry another woman, dear. Do not make yourself 
miserable about it. I fancy a man can be made very 
uncomfortable who has more than one wife at a time,” 
answered Norris, with a* laugh that jarred upon the 
woman at his side, who felt more and more that Norris 
was a very different man from the one she had once 
known and loved. 

The conversation was not carried any further, and 
Emma became absorbed in a reverie that lasted until 
the sleigh stopped before a fine, large residence. 

Norris alighted and rang the bell at the house 
door. His ring was answered by a very handsome 
girl with whom he held a few moments’ conversation. 
She then came out to the sleigh, and Norris, after 
introducing Emma to Miss Kate Vaughan, drove 
away, leaving Emma with Kate, who took Daisy up in 
her arms, and carried her into the house. 

Kate Vaughan looked searchingly at Emma as she 
said to her : “ I believe I have had the pleasure of see- 


182 


emma’s journey to utah. 


ing you before. Do you remember having a wounded 
arm, Mrs. Van Tine ?” 

“ Ah, yes, indeed, J do, and I have never forgotten 
your kindness to me at that time and Emma’s lips 
quivered as she thought of Ernest. 

“I suppose your husband has been dead some 
years,” remarked Kate, sympathetically, seeing the 
sorrow in her visitor’s face. 

“Alas, no ! Would to Heaven I had died before I 
left my Eastern home,” was the unexpected reply she 
received. 

“ Excuse me, I fear I have pained you by my 
thoughtless question. Come up stairs, you need 
rest.” 

There was a short silence between the two and 
then Emma asked : “ How is your mother ?” 

“ Mother is now more of a confirmed invalid than 
when you met her. She never leaves her room except 
to take a ride,” answered Miss Vaughan, with a long, 
weary sigh, as she led the way to a tastefully furnished 
apartment. The fresh-looking bed, with its snowy 
dressings, looked inviting to Emma, who had been 
traveling for days, stopping only a few hours at a time 
for rest. 

Kate undressed Daisy and put her to bed, then 
brought a wrapper for Emma, helped her to put it on 
and made her sit down while she brushed her hair 
and made the tired woman feel as comfortable as she 


emma’s journey to utah. 


183 


could have been in her own home. Then Kate quiet- 
ly left the apartment, returning in a few moments 
with a dainty repast spread on a large tray. 

She sat down with Emma and tried to entertain 
her. The sympathy and kindness of the generous 
girl was very grateful to her weary and sorrowful 
guest. 

What a picture of feminine beauty these two 
women made, sitting there opposite to each other, in 
the waning light of the short winter day. Emma was 
a perfect brunette while Kate was a blonde of the 
purest Saxon type. She was tall and graceful and her 
golden hair rolled back in natural waves from a face 
whose features were regular, but at the same time full 
of decision and character, and which was lighted by a 
pair of rarely-beautiful violet-blue eyes. 

These two women were destined to become very 
sincerely attached to each other. 

Before Kate left her that night, Emma had begun 
to love the girl with a love such as she had never 
given to any other woman ; and she felt more at ease 
than she had since her departure from Nevada. 


184 


A MORMON HOUSEHOLD. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

MORMON HOUSEHOLD. 

Five years had elapsed since Mrs. Vaughan had 
become a wife in name only ; she was really as much 
a widow as if the grave had closed over her husband. 
The same roof sheltered them, but they seldom saw 
each other, and when they met it was accidental ; to 
tell the truth, casual acquaintances w r ere on more in- 
timate terms than this couple who had been man and 
wife for twenty years. 

When George Vaughan was sealed to Alice Court- 
ney, he yielded to her influence and knew no law but 
hers. She possessed a wonderful charm for him and 
the glamor of her presence was irresistible ; besides, he 
had passionately loved her all his life. 

The first acts in the drama of this man’s history 
had commenced in Brighton, England, when Alice 
Graham jilted him for the wealthy Henry Courtney. 
There had been an interval of sixteen years between 
the second and third acts and the scene had changed 
from Brighton to Salt Lake City. The retrospect of 
George Vaughan’s past relations with his plural wife 
gave Sarah Vaughan many a heart-felt pang, for she 


A MORMON HOUSEHOLD. 


185 


realized, though she had been the mother of his 
children, that her rival had been the only woman her 
husband had ever loved. 

Sarah Vaughan loved this man not wisely but too 
well, and she married him believing that she had won 
his heart. Alas ! the first year of her married life 
proved how fallacious her hopes of happiness were. 

Henry Courtney inherited a handsome property in 
Brighton. The place was called “ Lawnwood,” and 
was considered one of the handsomest in that part of 
the country. 

When Mrs. Courtney became mistress of “Lawn- 
wood,” she was surprised to find that the modest home 
of the Vaughan family adjoined her grounds, and 
that they were her nearest neighbors. She waived all 
ceremony and called upon Mrs. Vaughan, who did not 
return her call because she was bitterly jealous of this 
modern Circe who captivated and won all hearts by 
her marvelous charms. 

Mrs. Vaughan’s husband was a tall, handsome man 
and, in spite of his moderate circumstances, was a 
general favorite in society on account of his genial 
manners. He belonged to an excellent family, and 
was at Oxford when his father failed and he was 
thrown upon his own resources ; he determined to 
fight the battle of life to the best of his ability. H e 
entered his tincle’s office and in time became an expert 
architect. He had completed his twenty-fifth year 


186 


A MORMON HOUSEHOLD. 


when he met Alice Graham at an evening party and 
was fascinated by her from the first moment that her 
gleaming black eyes were raised to acknowledge his 
greeting. She looked him straight in the face as if to 
read his very thoughts. 

Alice was not a beautiful girl, but she was very 
fair to look upon. Her dark eyes sparkled as she 
turned them towards you, and her fine complexion 
dyed by the rosy tints of health ; her white brow 
was shaded by tiny curls as black as a raven’s 
wing. 

Her supple form was grace itself ; as she moved 
about a room, her walk was unlike the generality of 
her sex. Her head was always held up with a 
regal air, her shoulders thrown back and the sound of 
her regular foot-falls could almost be counted as she 
stepped briskly onward. 

She loved the handsome young architect as much 
as she was capable, but her regard for him was not 
sufficiently strong to induce her to endure a life of 
poverty with the man of her choice, especially as she 
could very easily improve her worldly condition by wed- 
ding a more wealthy suitor. She really and sincerely 
intended to marry George Vaughan until Henry 
Courtney appeared on the matrimonial horizon, then 
she deliberately jilted her devoted lover and became 
the wife of his rival. 

Mrs. Courtney was a married flirt ; she made 


A MORMON HOUSEHOLD. 


187 


herself agreeable to all of her husband’s male 
friends. 

She gave the choicest of dinner parties, and 
invariably invited her former lover and his wife. 
Mrs. Vaughan would never accept any invitation tc 
these entertainments, but her husband did, and in the 
end became the “ami de la maison." 

Mr. Vaughan’s business did not improve as years 
rolled on, and when he met a Mormon elder, who 
was sent out to England as a missionary, he became 
interested in the Mormon doctrine ; moreover, he 
thought he might better his fortunes by emigrating to 
Utah. 

Mrs. Courtney was a regular correspondent of 
George Vaughan’s after his departure, and it was 
owing to his advice, that, seven years after, she fol- 
lowed his example. She thought she would improve 
her circumstances by becoming a Mormon and the 
plural wife of her sweetheart of former years, who now 
had a comfortable home to offer her. 

Her husband had been dead nearly two years 
when she left England, and she was a childless, pen- 
niless widow without any family ties ; therefore, she 
felt that no one had a right to criticise her conduct, 
even if she became George Vaughan’s plural wife. 

Alice Courtney had contemplated taking this step 
before her departure from her native land, and she 
carried out the programme she had marked o it for 


188 


A MORMON HOUSEHOLD. 


herself, regardless of Sarah Vaughan’s feelings. She 
was pleasantly surprised to find that she still held 
sway over her old lover’s heart. 

Alice Courtney had been George Vaughan’s plural 
wife two years and he was happy, for all the old mad 
infatuation of his youth thrilled his being. He was 
this woman’s willing slave and knew no law but hers. 
Sometimes his conscience smote him, when he 
thought of his deserted wife and daughter, for whom 
he provided, but seldom visited. 

The unhappy wife refused to see him, but Kate 
received her father when he called at the farm, as she 
was determined that her mother should be properly 
provided for. 

Kate Vaughan knew that a great many wives in 
Utah were not supported by their husbands ; in fact, 
hardly a week elapsed that she did not hear some 
sad story of deprivation from the lips of women who 
were unable to take care of their families on the pit- 
tance allowed them. George Vaughan was too much 
of a gentleman to neglect supporting his lawful wife, 
though he lavished his means to gratify his plural 
wife’s caprices. 

During the third year of George Vaughan’s plural 
marriage, he became the father of a son by his second 
wife Alice. The baby was a fine healthy child and 
thrived. He became the idol of both his parents. 
Therefore, in spite of his invalid wife’s disdain, and 


MOKMON HOUSEHOLD. 


189 


the reproachful expression in his daughter’s eyes 
whenever she greeted him, during his very brief visits 
to the farm house, he was happy. 

The felicity that George Vaughan enjoyed was of 
the material sort. His plural wife had ever been the 
woman of his choice ; therefore, he had unexpectedly 
realized his early dream of wedded bliss, and was 
contented. 

There are some things that no amount of prepara- 
tion prepares for, and the unexpected always hap- 
pens, and so it proved in this man’s case. He was one 
day astounded by being commanded to take another 
wife, and the miserable man did not dare to refuse to 
obey Brigham Young’s behest ; therefore, he begged 
for time to arrange his household, and thus obtained a 
reprieve. 

Hannah Shaw, who was elected to become his 
third spouse, was a Mormon widow of fifty summers, 
a personal friend of the Prophet. She was of Scotch 
parentage and a thrifty woman, who knew the history 
of the Vaughan family, and she coveted the manage- 
ment of the farm. She remarked to the Prophet that 
“things were going to rack and ruin for the want of 
some one to look after them on Vaughan’s place.” 

When Brigham Young g-aciously granted George 
Vaughan time to make his family arrangements, he 
hastened home and informed his wife Alice of the 
Prophet’s command, and the quick-witted womsn, 


190 


A MORMON HOUSEHOLD. 


after the first shock of the announcement had sub- 
sided, advised her husband to move into a large house 
which he had just completed and thought of selling. 
This house was a three-story frame structure with 
side wings. 

The right wing was furnished and arranged for 
Sarah Vaughan and her daughter, the lower floor of 
the left wing George Vaughan fitted up as his office, 
and the main building was furnished for Mrs. Alice 
Vaughan. 

By Mormon law, a man is required to spend a 
week with each spouse ; therefore, Mrs. Alice was 
always sure of her husband’s society for the greater 
portion of his time as his first wife refused to see the 
man who had so bitterly wronged her ; besides, his 
office being in the building, he was always sure to be 
there during the day ; even during the week he was 
required by law to visit his other plural wife. 

On the morning that George Vaughan went to the 
Endowment House to be sealed unto Mrs. Shaw, his 
wife Alice accompanied him ; for an obedient Mormon 
wife is supposed to be willing that her husband shall 
take other wives, and her presence at the sealing is a 
sign of her approval. When the ceremony was over 
and she saw her husband drive off with his new plural 
spouse, she walked home with a ghastly face and 
rigidly compressed lips. 

When she entered the house she sat down, white 


A MORMON HOUSEHOLD. 


191 


and still, for an hour. What did this wild protest in 
her heart mean ? Why had she not borne in mind 
that, sooner or later, this chalice would some day be 
presented to her own lips. Now, for the first time, it 
dawned upon her how bitter the cup was that her own 
hands had held to Sarah Vaughan to drink of. 

The nurse brought her infant son to her — she 
clasped the child to her rebellious heart and wept 
bitterly. Verily as we sow, so do we reap, even if we 
conceal the barbed arrow within our own hearts. The 
sting of an accusing conscience will poison the hap- 
piness we have sinned to grasp. 


192 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A MORMON CONVERT. 

The morning after Emma’s arrival in Utah, she did 
not rise until late, and breakfasted in her own apart- 
ment. 

The unhappy woman felt dazed by the unexpected 
events which had lately happened. 

She yearned for the presence of the father of her 
child, and she shuddered when she thought of what a 
perpetual struggle the balance of her existence was to 
be between love, and what she imagined to be her 
duty. The retrospect of her happy married life with 
Ernest Van Tine arose before her mental vision, and 
she sobbed aloud in her anguish. 

Daisy crept to her mother’s side, and, throwing her 
arms around her mother’s neck, lisped : 

“ Mamma, don’t cry !” 

Emma did not take any notice of her would-be 
little comforter, but continued to weep, for she felt 
perfectly desolate among strangers. The child was 
silent for a few moments. She had never seen her 
mother in such a state of mental woe, but she, at last, 
impatiently exclaimed : 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


193 


“ Mamma ! Mamma !” 

“ Yes, dear.” 

“ Daisy wants to go home.” 

“Oh, my darling, we have no home to go to,” 
replied Emma, sadly. 

“ Daisy wants to see Papa !” 

“You will break mamma’s heart, baby,” said the 
unhappy mother, as she clasped her child convulsively 
to her heart. 

“ Don’t cry, Mamma. Me go home with you to- 
morrow, and then me see Papa. Me love Papa ; don’t 
you, Mamma?” 

“ Oh, baby, baby !” exclaimed the miserable 
woman, sobbing out her anguish. Daisy’s innocent 
questions pierced her heart like the thrust of a dagger. 

Kate Vaughan entered the apartment, and she was 
surprised to find Emma in tears. Kate endeavored to 
retreat hastily from the room without being observed, 
as she supposed her guest would feel mortified if she 
noticed her emotion, but Daisy espied her. The child 
said excitedly : 

“ Mamma ! see pretty lady ; don’t cry. Let me 
go to Papa.” 

“ Daisy, your father will soon be here,” said the 
kind-hearted girl as she stood in the centre of the 
room ; she felt she must make some reply. 

“ Daisy don’t want that Papa, she wants her own 
nice Papa.” 

12 


m 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


“ Isn’t Mr. Norris the child’s father ?” asked Kate 
in surprise, unable to control her curiosity. 

“ No, Kate ; Ernest Van Tine is her father. You 
may remember him, for it is only five years since we 
were your guests.” 

“ Yes, I remember Mr. Van Tine quite well,” replied 
Kate, quietly.” “I thought he was dead.” 

“ No, I am not his widow — I wish I had died before 
we had ever met,” answered Emma, passionately. 
“ My story is a sad one, Kate, and you have a right to 
my confidence. I have violated no law of God or 
man knowingly, but I am, nevertheless, a victim of cir- 
cumstances. I married Richard during the war. I 
had every reason to suppose him dead ; his friends had 
seen a man buried under his name, and as my husband 
did not return home, we believed that he was no 
longer living. A year elapsed. I married Ernest Van 
Tine, a man so true and noble that I could be proud of 
his love. Oh, Kate, if I allow myself to think of the 
past I shall go insane. I would be willing to suffer 
any sacrifice to be allowed to return to the father of 
my child.” 

“It certainly seems to me that he has the best 
claim upon you.” 

“ I myself feel that he has, but Richard, who was 
my first husband, demands that I shall obtain a divorce 
from Ernest and marry him.” 

“You will not act for ycur own best interest, or 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


195 


that of your child, if you divorce a good Gentile 
husband, and marry a Mormon, who will have other 
wives.” 

“He has promised me to marry no other woman.” 

“ A promise made only to be broken ; take my 
word for it. My advice to you is to return to your 
Gentile husband.” 

“ How can I ? Richard says that he has left our 
home ; and if so, I know not where to seek for him.” 

“ Perhaps that is true.” 

“ Do you doubt Richard’s word ?” 

“ As I would doubt the word of any Mormon in 
such a case. But tell me, how did you come to leave 
your Gentile husband ?” 

Emma took Daisy on her lap as Kate sat down to 
listen the story of Emma’s life. 

“So he carried you off against your will!” ex- 
claimed Kate, her eyes flashing with indignation as 
she heard of Norris’ high-handed proceedings. 

“Yes, I begged to return to Ernest when I re- 
gained my consciousness,” replied the unhappy 
woman. 

“It is very strange that Mr. Van Tine should have 
been so willing for you to go back to your first hus- 
band,” remarked Kate. 

“ Ernest acted on the impulse of the moment. He 
felt that he had unconsciously wronged his friend, 
and he was willing to make all the atonement in his 


196 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


power ; besides, he did not know that Richard had 
joined the Mormon church,” answered Emma, with a 
deep sigh. 

“Why not telegraph to Mr. Van Tine to come to 
Utah — that you are in peril and need his aid. You 
could tell him all your troubles and he would help you 
to escape becoming a Mormon wife. From what 
you have told me, I am sure that Mr. Van Tine would 
not leave his child to be raised amid such surround- 
ings if he knew the character of the people with 
whom she must associate as she matures,” said Kate, 
earnestly. 

“I will telegraph to my old neighbor, Mrs. Wood ; 
she will know whether Ernest has left the place or not. 
Oh, if he would only come to my assistance, I should 
indeed thank Heaven for its mercy. The father of my 
child, Kate, will come if I send for him.” 

“ He will come if he is the man I take him to be. 
In what part of Nevada did you live ?” Kate asked her 
visitor. 

“About two miles from Virginia City. My hus- 
band did the repairs for the Comstock mines, shod the 
horses, pointed the mining tools, and did all the work 
of that kind.” 

“Let me go at once and telegraph to this Mrs. 
Wood. If your husband can be found I beg you to 
return to him as soon as possible. Please write your 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


197 


message while I put on my bonnet, for we must at- 
tend to the matter immediately.” 

“ God bless you, Kate !” exclaimed Emma. “ I 
will do as you think best. I am glad I yielded to the 
impulse to confide my sorrow to you.” 

When Kate re-entered the room, dressed for her 
walk, Emma had the message ready for her. 

“ Mind now, not a word to Norris ; he is a power in 
Utah. Let us learn the truth before you are again 
married to him in the Mormon church.” 

Kate took the message to the office, and hurried 
back home, where she found Richard Norris seated 
beside Emma, with Daisy upon his knee. Kate en- 
tered the parlor determined to give Norris but little 
chance for private conversation, as she knew how in- 
tense was Emma’s nervous dread of being left alone to 
entertain her former husband 

Norris was in very good spirits, as he had been 
promised that his wife should have an immediate 
divorce from Ernest Van Tine. After remaining for 
some little time with the two women, he arose to go, 
and as he bade Emma good-by, he whispered to her : 

11 Little woman, you will be sealed unto me the 
first of next month. Your divorce is going to be 
granted very quickly.” 

“I am sorry that you still persist in clain ing me. 
I would rather return to my child’s father,” was her 
cold answer. 


198 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


“ Ernest gave you back to me,” Richard replied, 
his face flushing hotly. 

“That is true, but I fear you are making a sad 
mistake. You will not continue to love me as you do 
now.” 

“Yes, Emma, always,” he said, firmly. 

“ But will you always be contented with one 
wife ?” 

“ I promised you to be sealed to no other woman 
and you must believe me, sweetheart. We have 
know each other since we were children, Emma, and I 
think you should be convinced that I care for no 
other woman, nor ever shall. Give me your love and 
it will suffice.” 

“ Oh, Richard, I hope you will remember this 
promise. If we are married again I can never consent 
to your taking another wife.” 

“And yet you have had another husband, and I do 
think of even blaming you.” 

“You could not do so with any sort of reason. 
We both thought that you were dead.” 

“ Let the past be forgotten,” said Norris, 
hurriedly, “and let us live only in the future from 
this time. Good-by, my darling, and don’t worry 
about the past,” said Richard, as he parted from her. 

Emma stood for a moment at the door after he 
had left her, watching him until he turned the corner 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


199 


and was hidden from her view. The man’s love for 
her could not fail to have its effect. 

While she was pondering upon the strangeness of 
her position, a messenger came up with a telegram 
for her. She paid the boy and signed the book with 
all possible haste, and then ran up to her own room 
after having first called Kate. By this time her 
emotion had quite overcome her and she was obliged 
to hand the dispatch to her friend. 

Kate tore open the envelope and read as follows : 

“ Van Tine has left Virginia City. Sold every- 
thing and no one here knows where he is. 

“ N. Wood.” 

Emma uttered a low moan and fell in a swoon at 
her friend’s feet. Kate looked at her as she lay there 
like a dead woman and thought that it would perhaps 
be well for her if she should never regain her con- 
sciousness, as she was destined to suffer the intense 
misery of being a Mormon wife. 

The young girl had seen much of Mormonism and 
she utterly detested the institution. It was only on 
her mother’s account that she remained in Salt Lake 
City. She did not, however, believe that her father 
would ever ask her to marry ; even if he di J, her fixed 
determination was not to wed a Mormon. Kate had 
no faith in the word of any man who believed in this 


200 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


false religion, and she was convinced that with them 
all “ the end sanctified the means.” 

Much time was not wasted in these reflections, as 
she soon set to work to revive the insensible woman,’ 
and when Kate saw the misery and mute anguish 
which took possession of Emma’s face, when a recol- 
lection of what had passed returned to her, she tried 
in vain to console her. The task was a hopeless one, 
and the two friends wept in each other’s arms. For 
the first time, Emma really gave up the hope that had 
been In her heart. Ernest was separated from her for- 
ever, and she mourned for him as she would for the 
dead. 

The next morning Emma was in a raging fever 
and a physician was sent for. He pronounced it an 
attack of brain fever. Kate nursed her devotedly, 
and Norris, who was really anxious, did all that he 
could for her comfort. 

She was the one woman whom he really loved — he 
had been infatuated with Madam Velasquez’s beauty 
and wealth — the latter he had coveted. Emma he 
had always loved, in spite of the fact of his desertion 
of her. Now he loved her more than ever before. 
He was even grateful for the placid sort of affection 
which she had seemed to feel for him, he thought, of 
late. The fact was that she linked him to his past, 
which had been blameless up to the time of the close 
of the war. 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


201 


After a time, Kate would not allow him to enter 
the sick room. Emma’s almost constant appeal to 
Ernest to “ Come and save her ” so enraged him that 
Kate thought it was better that he should not see the 
invalid. 

After six weeks of delirum and suffering, Kate 
found Emma one morning, when she came in after a 
few hours’ rest, conscious but too weak to do more 
than smile at her devoted nurse. Presently she asked 
for Daisy and the child was brought to her. The 
little one kissed her mother and was unwilling to 
leave her again. The poor child had never been 
separated from her mother for a day or an hour 
before, now for weeks she had not been allowed to 
enter her room. 

The next day Norris came in to see her. He 
showed so much emotion that Emma could not but 
feel that his love for her was genuine. 

“ Thanks for all your kindness, Richard,” she 
whispered. 

“ Oh, do not speak to me as if I were a stranger, 
Emma, my dear little wife. Try and get well for my 
sake and Daisy’s.” 

It was many weeks before Emma was able to leave 
her room, but at last she was strong enough to join 
the family at meals, and to sit with them for a part of 
each day. She had always been a reserved and quiet 


202 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


woman, but after this illness she was more than ever 
silent and grave. 

She yielded herself more and more to the influence 
of Richard Norris ; a fact which grieved Kate in- 
tensely. 

One day Norris brought Emma the “ Book of 
Mormon,” and after she had read that carefully he 
asked permission to introduce to her an old Scotch 
Mormon who was as full of Scripture as a bone is of 
marrow. 

In his picturesque Scotch dialect, with its rich old 
English vowels, he told her the story of his conversion, 
away over there in Scotland, many years ago ; told it 
in a strain of mingled simplicity and fervor that made 
it very touching as well as convincing. He himself 
was — as in fact, are the most of the sect — intensely 
convinced, so to speak, of the truth of Mormonism, 
and of its eventual triumph. He read its mystic 
riddles in and out of the Bible ; he saw them in the 
grass and heard them in the trees. Nothing could 
convince him that he might possibly be wrong ; no, 
that was impossible to one of God’s elect — there could 
be no manner of doubt about it. 

He assured Emma that miracles had been wrought 
in Scotland by his right hand, and that it had been 
instrumental in working others here. He did not 
boast of his power ; he was all humility, in his ascrip- 
f ion of the entire efficacy of the exorcism, to G ->d him- 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


203 


self. He spoke of the Holy Trinity in accents of the 
deepest reverence, and of the wonders done by 
anointing the sick with yellow Italian olive oil. He 
told of the numbers redeemed by the Mormon faith. 
He quoted Scripture faster than Emma could follow 
him, giving chapter and verse. 

This old Scotchman called often. One evening he 
was talking of his conversion in Scotland, and his 
story of his baptism made a deep impression upon 
Emma, who was now anxious to believe and know all 
that was good in the Mormon church. 

This man was a firm believer in the “ Book of 
Mormon,” and held to all its peculiar tenets about the 
reunion of the lost tribes of Zion, the United States, 
the conversion of North America by Jesus and his 
Apostles, eighteen hundred years ago ; the one 
thousand two hundred and sixty mystical days when 
the book was closed ; the divine mission of Joseph 
Smith ; and finally, the significance of Utah as the 
umbilical centre of the New Dispensation. 

After this man had made an impression upon 
Emma, Norris took her to the Tabernacle one Sunday 
and showed her over the building. This Mormon 
place of worship was completed many years ago, by 
Brigham Young and his assistants. It is made to 
represent the myth of the world — an immense turtle 
wrought in wood. A huge, tortoise-shaped dome, 
seventy or eighty feet high, casts its enormous unsup- 


204 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


ported arch over an auditorium two hundred and fifty 
feet long by one hundred and fifty wide. It forms 
one of the most perfect whispering galleries in the 
world. A pin falling in a straw hat ; a loud ticking 
watch ; the noise made by brushing the dust gently 
from a coat sleeve, can be heard from one end of the 
immense structure to the other. 

The roof is garlanded with wreaths of cedar, which 
cross and recross in a complicated but harmonious 
design. There are three pulpits, one behind the other, 
each upholstered in crimson and surrounded by 
benches, where the president, the bishops, and the 
council of the twelve apostles sit. There is choir of 
of one hundred male and female voices which is sup- 
ported by a string band, a cornet, and a gigantic but 
fine-toned organ. The music consists of nothing more 
elaborate than some of the best known Christian 
hymns, set to perfectly familiar, airs such, for instance, 
as “ Arise, O Zion.” 

Emma enjoyed the music, and in fact the whole 
service, which was extremely simple ; a hymn, then a 
prayer (all sitting except the officiating elder), then 
another hymn, and then the weekly communion of 
bread and water, which is distributed to the congrega- 
tion, in their seats, while one of the elders is preaching. 

The communion-table stands in front of the three 
pulpits and is covered with a fair white cloth, on which 
are arranged, in a row, twelve two-handled silver cups, 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


205 


six large pitchers, and a number of baskets, all of sil- 
ver. Into these baskets, six or seven of the saints pro- 
ceed to break the sacramental bread. The elements 
were each blessed in turn and presented to the people. 
The elder was interrupted in his sermon to listen to 
the blessing and to hurriedly partake of the bread and 
water when his turn came. 

The organ was an exceedingly sweet- toned one for 
so large an instrument ; and is a lofty, tabernacle-like 
structure, almost as large as a small chapel, being 
nearly sixty feet high. It was built by Utah workmen 
and almost entirely of Utah wood. On this particular 
day, it was played by a young organist, who, however, 
managed the stops and pedals with a great deal of 
skill and self-possession. 

There was no reading of the Bible during the ser- 
vice and no text was selected for the sermon. It was 
evident that the preacher depended solely on the 
inspiration of the moment ; and his sermon consisted 
of a vigorous denunciation of the mistaken denomina- 
tions, such as the Presbyterian, Episcopalian and 
Methodists, and so on, and was founded, doctrinally, 
upon a text of Scripture from the book of Jeremiah, 
sixth chapter and sixteenth verse. The congregation 
laughed freely at some of the speaker’s funny hits at 
the various sects. A loud and quite unaminous 
“ Amen ” followed the prayer at the conclusion of the 


sermon. 


206 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


Emma was charmed with the service and frankly 
told Norris so. 

“ Are you convinced, Emma, that the Mormon faith 
is the only inspired religion on earth ?” asked Norris. 

“Yes, Richard, I begin to think that it is.” 

“ I hope to see you converted soon, Emma.” 

“ Should you feel happier, Richard, if I joined the 
Mormon church ?” 

“ I certainly should, Emma, for I believe it is the 
only religion. Besides, I think that a husband and 
wife should belong to the same church.” 

“ I agree with you, and I could gladly accept all the 
doctrines of your church except polygamy ; in that I 
cannot believe.” 

“You are not alone in that feeling, Emma. There 
are several sects of Mormons, but the principal are the 
po 1 vgamous and the non-polygamous — the Brighamites 
and the Josephites.” 

“ Are there many non-polygamous Mormons in 
Utah ?” 

“ A few only ; the majority of the Josephites are 
scattered in various places outside of Utah.” 

“ Then I will join the Mormon church, for in every 
other respect I admire the belief.” 

“You have made me the happiest of men. Now 
that your health is restored, there is nothing to pre- 
vent our being sealed next week.” 

“ I will say nothing against it, Richard. I shall be 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


207 


glad to have my own home once more. Besides, you 
have been very patient and kind to me.” 

“ Because I love you, dear. You will be ever the 
wife of my heart, no matter what may happen.” 

“ I trust that we shall both be happy.” 

“Next Wednesday week we will be sealed to each 
other !” 

“ Let it be as you desire,” replied Emma, quietly. 

That evening Emma told Kate that she had deter- 
mined to join the Mormon church. 

“ I am sorry to hear you say so,” returned Kate. 

“ Why, dear ?” 

“ Because I feel sure you will live to repent having 
taken such a step. In my opinion there is no such 
slavery on the face of this earth as that of a Mormon 
wife.” 

“ Youi mother is a Mormon wife.” 

“Yes; poor mother followed in the footsteps of 
my father, and she is to-day slowly dying from the 
suffering it has brought her. My father is a perfect 
fanatic. He married Alice Courtney to please himself, 
but he was sealed unto his third wife to please Brig- 
ham Young.” 

“ Why did your mother consent to his taking otliei 
wives ?” 

“ My poor mother lay on her bed too ill to rise 
from it the day that my father was sealed to Alice 
Courtney. She did not care what he did afte that ” 


208 


A MORMON CONVERT. 


“ But you told me the other day that Mormonism 
and polygamy were entirely distinct.” 

“And so they are ; but the majority of Mormons in 
Utah believe in polygamy.” 

“This portion of the Mormon faith I cannot and 
do not accept.” 

“ I am sorry that you have accepted any portion of 
it, my friend.” 

“Are you not a Mormon ?” 

“ No ; I hate and detest the church that would 
make its wives and mothers slaves.” 

“ I think that you are prejudiced, Kate.” 

“ I am not ; but I fear that you will regret the step 
which you are about to take when it is too late to 
retrace it.” 

“ I hope not ; I know that I shall be happier to 
belong to some church. I am an unhappy woman, 
Kate, for I am here against my will. Norris will not 
allow me to leave Utah, and he insists upon our speedy 
marriage.” 

“ When are you to be sealed ?” 

“Next Wednesday. I shall be baptized and re- 
ceived into the Mormon church next Sunday, for I am 
now strong enough to be immersed.” 

“ My dear friend, I hope that you will not live to 
repent having become a Mormon convert,” said Kate, 
kissing Emma, who saw that the tears were standing 
in her beautiful eyes. 


kate yaughan’s betrothal. 


200 


CHAPTER XIX. 

kate vaughan’s betrothal. 

When Emma became a member of the Mormon 
;hurch, Kate Vaughan felt that she could not sympa- 
thize with her, and she left her friend to be enter- 
tained by her father’s wife Alice. This lady did all 
that she could to make the latter portion of Emma’s 
sojourn at her house pleasant. She assisted her guest 
in her preparations for her marriage, and accompanied 
her with Richard Norris to the Endowment House 
when they were sealed. She won Emma’s confidence 
to such an extent that she believed that Kate was 
prejudiced against her father’s plural wife. Alice’s 
captivating manners charmed the unsophisticated con- 
vert to Mormonism. 

When Richard Norris took his bride to the house 
which he had prepared, Emma and Alice parted with 
mutual regret. After Emma’s wedding, the Vaughan 
household resumed its former daily routine. 

Kate missed Daisy’s innocent prattle, and she felt 
lonely after the child’s departure. Her mother’s 
wrongs grieved her tender heart, but she was power- 
less to resent her father’s plural marriages. Kate 

13 


210 


rate vaughan’s betrothal. 


had to endure a thousand daily annoyances in order 
to make her mother’s last days upon earth peaceful 
and comfortable, but the noble-hearted girl bore all 
her trials bravely, and devoted herself to her invalid 
mother with greater assiduity. She was well aware 
that this beloved parent was dying slowly, but surely. 
Mrs. Vaughan’s life, since their removal to Salt Lake 
City, was that of a martyr. She knew that her hus- 
band was dead to her, so she awaited her approaching 
dissolution with resignation, as she felt that she could 
find peace only in the grave. Her married life had 
been too full of bitter disappointments to make her 
cling to this world. 

It was only when the unhappy mother thought of 
her daughter’s future that she trembled. She knew 
that her husband would urge their daughter to wed a 
Mormon, and she thought of the girl’s unprotected 
condition with heartfelt anguish. However, Mrs. 
Vaughan’s fears were mere nervous fancies, for Kate 
detested the people whose baneful doctrine had 
blighted her mother’s life. Her patience had been 
very severely taxed since she had lived under the 
same roof that sheltered her father’s plural wife and 
family, especially as she could see how completely 
infatuated he had become with his wife Alice. In her 
heart she cursed Mormonism, as she knew that it was 
only in Utah such a state of society was tolerated. 

Kate tried to be as philosophical as possible undei 


kate vaugiian’s betrothal. 


211 


the circumstances, and she endeavored to bear the 
burden of her life’s cares and sorrows with resigna- 
tion, but the dreary life she was obliged to lead at 
times depressed her natural buoyancy. 

Kate called occasionally upon Emma, who always 
gladly welcomed her, but she seldom returned her 
visits, for she endeavored to avoid Mrs. Vaughan 
Emma did not possess sufficient tact to be upon inti- 
mate terms with both of George Vaughan’s wives. 

The only female friend Mrs. Vaughan possessed 
was Dr. Hays’ wife. The good doctor often visited 
Mrs. Vaughan, who had been his patient for years. 

The good physician had made George Vaughan’s 
acquaintance as follows : He had been thrown from 
his horse, almost at the English Mormon’s feet, and 
severely injured. Mr. Vaughan insisted upon Dr. 
Hays becoming his guest until he was able to return 
to Fort Douglass, at which post he was stationed. 
Dr. Hays was the physician of the garrison and 
greatly beloved by both the officers and soldiers. 

The doctor felt grateful for the kindness which he 
had received from the Vaughans, and an intimacy was 
established between the two families. The doctor 
and his wife often drove out to the farm to dine, and 
Mr. Vaughan escorted his wife and daughter when 
they received an invitation to spend the day at the 
doctor’s quarters. 

Kate always looked forward with delight to these 


212 


kate vaughan’s betrothal. 


visits to Fort Douglass. The brief glimpses which 
she had of military life, on such occasions, gave her 
unalloyed pleasure. The gay dress-parade, the lively 
strains of the garrison band, made her heart beat 
faster and her eyes sparkle with pleasurable excite- 
ment. 

Since her father’s plural marriage the friendship 
between George Vaughan and Dr. Hays had almost 
ceased to exist. As the doctor’s sympathies were 
enlisted in his patient’s behalf, he had often driven 
out to the Vaughan Farm and carried off both Mrs. 
Vaughan and her daughter to the Fort to spend the 
day with his wife. But when the Vaughans removed 
to Salt Lake City, and Mrs. Vaughan gradually 
became a confirmed invalid, Kate’s visits to the garri- 
son ceased, because she devoted herself to her mother. 

Mrs. Hays often went with her husband when he 
called on Mrs. Vaughan, she being the only patient he 
had outside the garrison. 

March, the month of gale and bluster, had suc- 
ceeded an unusually mild winter. Sleet and storm 
raged in every section of our broad domain and made 
even robust persons shiver and linger near the fire. 

The atmospheric change had affected Mrs. Vaugh- 
an’s health, and her condition was considered ex- 
tremely critical for some weeks. Kate was almost 
worn out nursing her mother, and Dr. Hays, fearing 
that the devoted girl would become ill herself, pre- 


kate yaugiian’s betrothal. 


‘213 


vailed upon her to allow him to send her a woinan, 
who acted as nurse in the garrison hospital, to help 
her. 

Kate was glad to have some kind woman near her, 
being completely exhausted from her constant attend- 
ance upon her mother. As soon as che kind physician 
saw the nurse installed and his patient comfortable he 
urged Kate to go out and take an hour’s walk daily, 
but the self-sacrificing girl seldom left her mother’s 
chamber. 

During the latter part of this bleak and dreary 
month the weather moderated and the sun appeared 
once more to gladden the hearts of the farmers, who 
welcomed the sunshine as a promise of fine spring 
weather. 

On one of these fine mornings, Dr. Hays visited 
his patient, and found her able to sit up in her easy- 
chair. 

“ I am very glad to see that you are able to sit up, 
Mrs. Vaughan,” he remarked. 

“ So am I, Doctor. It is such a relief to be able to 
leave my bed, but I am afraid Kate will be ill — she 
looks pale.” 

“ Oh, all she wants is a little exercise and fresh air. 
Nothing else ails her, Madam. Come, Kate, put on 
your wraps ; your mother is better, and Ann will take 
the best of care of her, and I am going to carry you 
away to spend the day at Fort Douglass.” 


2U 


rate vaughan’s betrothal. 


Kate’s eyes sparkled, but she seemed to hesitate 
until her mother said : 

“ Go, my daughter ; the change will do you good.” 

Ten minutes later Kate was seated beside Dr. 
Hays in his carriage, driving down the broad ave- 
nue that led towards the Fort. As the doctor neared 
Ensign Park he said, looking at Salt Lake City : 

“ It is a triumph that such a town should be laid 
out in such a country. I always like this view, there 
is so much of graceful architecture and landscape 
gardening. So many lovely flowers and blossoming 
trees tend to show that Joseph Smith and his follow- 
ers were something more than mere Mormon fanatics ; 
they were live Yankees with keen eyes, and the other 
senses still keener, determined to make a rose garden 
out of the wilderness, and cognizant enough of the 
methods necessary to attain their end. 

“ Doctor, I think the view is very fine, but I hate 
Utah, and when my mother dies I am determined to 
leave the place.” 

“ Ah, Kate, that is easier said than done, for your 
father will not allow you to go unprotected into the 
world to fight the battle of life alone,” replied Dr. 
Hays, as they passed through the gate and drove on 
to his quarters. 

The officers quarters stood in a row, fronting the 
gray level of the parade, surrounded by verandas, bor- 
dering upon a well-kept gravel path and an equally 


Kate Vaughan* s betrothal. 215 

well-graded drive. Clear, sparkling water rippled in 
tiny fountains through the front yards of each, and so 
furnished the moisture needed for the life of various 
little shrubs and flowering plants. 

Dr. Hays drove past the parade towards the big 
brown hospital building, which stood by itself, and 
past the snug house of the post trader ; then turned 
into another avenue, where he and his assistant sur- 
geons had their quarters. 

He assisted Kate to alight just as his servant in- 
formed him that he was needed at the hospital, as one 
of the cannon had burst and injured several artillery- 
men. 

Kate ran into the house, but there she found out 
that the doctor’s wife had gone over to the Colonel’s 
quarters to see his little boy who was ill, so Kate took 
off her wraps and prepared to make herself quite at 
home until her friend returned. A bright wood fire 
was blazing on the hearth, throwing flickering lights 
and shadows about the cozy room. The piano stood 
invitingly open and Kate discovered some of Strauss’ 
waltzes, with which she was familiar, and she began to 
play them. Her back being towards the door she did 
not notice that another visitor had been ushered in — a 
gentleman. She continued playing slowly, and just as 
she was about to turn the leaves, another hand antici- 
pated her. 

Kate uttered a slight shriek and turned hastily 


216 


rate vaugiian’s betrothal. 


around on the music-stool, and found herself face to 
face with Charles King. 

“ Lieutenant King !” exclaimed Kate, in surprise, as 
she extended her hand to him in greeting. 

“ It is a delightful surprise to meet you, Miss Kate. 
You have not been to Fort Douglass for months,” said 
the young officer, as he looked w‘th admiring eyes on 
her beautiful face. 

“ No, my mother has been very ill, and I was un- 
able to leave her,” Kate replied, sighing wearily. 

“ I believe the doctor told me Mrs. Vaughan 
was ill, but as your mother has been an invalid for 
some time, I thought she was neither better nor worse. 
Forgive my seeming neglect, for it is only seeming. 
I have often thought of you. It was only your stern 
command that kept me from calling upon you,” said 
Charles King, reproachfully. 

“My friend, I did only what was right in forbid- 
ding your visits, because I am the daughter of a Mor- 
mon father” — 

As Kate abruptly paused, overcome by confusion, 
the young officer looked down on her flushed face and 
gently took her hand. 

“Kate, listen to reason. Your father’s belief is not 
yours. You are as much a Gentile at heart as I am. 
I love you, and my love for you will influence my 
future life. I thank Heaven that I have this opportu- 
nity to plead my suit.” 


KATE VAUGHAn’b BETROTHAL. 


217 


Kate was silent but her face was growing white 
and mournful. 

“ Dear Kate will you consent to trust your future 
to my keeping ?” urged her lover. 

Kate shook her head sadly. “ I cannot consent to 
ruin your life,” she moaned. 

“ Silly child, what makes you think you will mar 
my life ?” anxiously questioned the young man. 

“ If I did not care for you, I should not be troubled 
by such fears. I am only a poor girl, imperfectly 
educated, and not a fit mate for an army officer ; be- 
sides, my father would oppose our union,” replied 
Kate. 

“ Pshaw, Kate ; you are a lady and a beautiful, 
intelligent, plucky girl, a fit mate for a general, let 
alone a poor lieutenant. My love for you is strong 
and deep. We are ordered off to Fort Adams, New- 
port, Rhode Island, and I hope you will not let me go 
without promising to be my wife.” 

Kate lifted up her shy eyes to his and saw re- 
flected in them a deeper love-light than she ever ex- 
pected to inspire in the young officer’s heart ; but she 
was still silent. 

“ Think of it, Kate ; I may not be able to see you 
again for months. Will you let me go without the 
promise I covet ?” 

“No, I cannot, for I love you,” murmured Kate, as 

10 


218 


rate Vaughan’s betrothal. 


; ;he leaned her head on his shoulder and commenced 
to weep softly. 

The young officer clasped her in his arms and 
kissed her with genuine fondness, but they both heard 
the sound of approaching footsteps and separated just 
as Mrs. Hays opened the drawing-room door and 
said : 

“I am sorry to keep you waiting, dear.” 

The doctor’s wife kissed Kate, and with a sly 
smile, she turned to her favorite among all the officers 
and whispered to him : “Oh, I am so glad.” 

The lieutenant started and looked confused, he 
could not imagine how Mrs. Hayes had discovered his 
love for Kate, which he thought no one knew. 

“Lieutenant, will you be so good as to entertain 
Kate while I go and order dinner ; you will dine with 
us ?” 

“ I will be pleased to do so,” replied Charles King, 
promptly. 

“ I am very glad that you are my guests to-day, for 
the doctor sent me word that there had been an acci- 
dent and he would not be home until late, so you will 
have to drive Kate home.” 

“ I shall be only too happy to do so,” answered the 
happy lover, who really felt grateful to the physician’s 
wife for her kind sympathy. 

As the door closed upon the retreating fcrm of 
Mrs. Hays, Charles whispered to Kate: “I would 


kate vaugiian’s betrothal. 219 

i 

like to hug her ; she is a dear, good-hearted woman. 
We can spend this day together, thanks to her cour- 
tesy, Kate. Let us hope that our future lives will be 
as full of happiness as this hour is.” 

“ I trust that you will never grow weary of me and 
repent of your choice,” Kate anxiously replied. 

“Weary of you!” exclaimed Charles. “Never. 
While life lasts so will my love endure for you, dear.” 
And he looked down on the fair, flushed face, with a 
rare smile as he kissed her gently on the brow and led 
her to the open piano. Then Kate’s rich soprano voice 
was heard blended with her lover’s tenor, in Moore’s 
beautiful ballad — “ If Thou’lt be Mine. ” 

“If thou’lt be mine, the treasures or air, 

Of earth and sea, shall be at thy feet; 

Whatever in Fancy’s eye looks fair. 

Or in Hope’s sweet music sounds most sweet. 

Shall be ours — if thou wilt be mine, love!* 


' 


220 THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE BROKEN PROMISE. 

Emma had been married six months to Richard 
Norris, and outwardly she appeared to be a happy 
wife ; but she felt that she would never know what 
real content meant. She often thought of Ernest in 
spite of her strong efforts to forget him, and her mind 
would wander back to the happy past. 

When she remembered how readily Ernest had 
resigned his claim upon her, the hot blood dyed her 
cheeks, and she felt bitterly mortified. Mentally, she 
questioned the wisdom of Ernest’s self-sacrifice. She 
thought it would have been but right if he had dis- 
puted Richard’s claim. 

Emma regretted that she had not firmly refused to 
divorce herself from Ernest, and if she could have 
recalled the past she would have gladly done so. 
Alas, with the light of past experience, the majority 
of us would act very differently regarding various 
matters. 

Circumstances, however, had given Richard Norris 
what seemed to be a moral right to claim her as his 
wife, at least so the divorce court of Utah had decided, 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


221 


and he had managed that Emma should be legally 
divorced from Ernest Van Tine ; therefore, according 
to law, she was the legal wife of Richard Norris. 

But in the inmost depths of her heart, Emma felt 
that she morally belonged to Ernest. She tried to do 
her duty, though her soul rebelled, as any woman’s 
must who endeavors to put duty in the place of love. 

If Richard had not deserted his wife in the first 
year of her married life, she might have continued to 
love him as ardently as she did in her girlhood, for 
the glamor of her youthful romance, with its rosy tints, 
would have lingered around her husband and he 
would have still seemed to her to be her ideal man, 
the one of all the world in her eyes. She bitterly 
deplored that her calm life had been disturbed and 
that she had to daily struggle between her love for 
Ernest and her duty towards Richard. 

Now that she knew the two men well and could 
compare them fairly, the noble and disinterested love 
and tenderness which Van Tine had shown for her, 
and the innate honor of his nature, contrasted very 
favorably with the grosser and more selfish love and 
attention which she now received from Norris. 

Still he was kind to her and to Daisy, whom he was 
in danger of spoiling by over indulgence. It was im- 
possible not to love so charming a child, and Emma 
was grateful to Richard for the fatherly manner in 
which he treated the little one. 


222 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


Soon after Richard had settled down, Brigham 
Young became a frequent guest at his house and he 
occasionally dined with the family. The Prophet 
found his friend’s home a pleasant place to visit. 
Norris had surrounded himself with a certain amount 
of the luxury to which he had grown accustomed 
during his residence in San Francisco, and his wife was 
an excellent housekeeper and made her home comfort- 
able and pleasant. 

During one of those friendly visits, when they were 
alone the Prophet said suddenly to Richard : 

“ Brother Norris, your life in Frisco has always been 
a mystery to me until to day.” 

“ What do you mean ?” asked his host, coolly, 
though he could not prevent the color from leaving his 
face. 

“ Simply, that I received to-day an old copy of the 
San Francisco Call ; in it there was a marked passage 
in which your name figured conspicuously. You were 
accused of the murder of your wife, and also her 
brother, Pedro Ramirez,” answered the Prophet, 
giving Norris a piercing look as if he would read his 
very soul. “ Rather grave charges. *t seems to me !” 

“ I shot Seflor Ramirez, but I did it in self-defence.” 

“ Granted. You did not, however, tell me that you 
had been married while you were in San Francisco ?” 

“ I did not deem that necessary.” 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


223 


“Ah, you are a sly dog,” exclaimed Brigham 
Young, smiling disagreeably. 

Norris shuddered. He knew that the Prophet had 
deliberately hunted out his past, in order to get him 
more completely in his power. Richard Norris was 
no longer his own master for he well knew that once a 
man was in Brigham’s power he was a slave. 

Brigham Young never allowed a man to become, to 
any very great extent, wealthy — the moment that one 
of his followers was more than ordinarily prosperous 
he was orded to take more wives. 

The Prophet abruptly broke the silence that had 
become somewhat embarrassing by asking : “ Why do 
you not take a plural wife ?” 

“ Oh, I do not want to be bothered with two at a 
time. They disagree and make the house uncomfort- 
able, ” growled Norris, frowning, for he did not like 
:he tone of command in which his leader had addressed 
him. 

“You can manage all that. It is your duty as a 
good Mormon to have, at least, two wives. What do 
you say to the beautiful Kate Vaughan ?” 

“ Kate Vaughan is certainly a very handsome girl.” 

“And she and Sister Emma are very good friends.” 

“ As friends they agree ; but as wives, my dear sir. 
I fear they might not get on so well.” 

" Nonsense ! don’t be faint-hearted. I will speak 


224 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


to Brother Vaughan about the matter this evening 
He would be glad to see Kate so well married.” 

“ Do as you think best about it,” replied Norris, 
who knew he dared not disobey his superior. 

Norris himself had no desire to take another wife. 
In the first place, he loved Emma as truly and as much 
as he was capable of loving, and he did not care to 
make her unhappy, as she knew he would be if he 
broke his promise to her. Again, he was an extremely 
selfish man and he felt sure that nil his home comfort 
would be at an end if there were two women having 
marital claims on him. Perhaps, too, his early educa- 
tion had something to do with his feelings in this 
respect ; for it is quite possible that he had become a 
Mormon more from policy than any other reason. 

He was aware that the Mormon leader held his life 
in his hands, that he could deliver him up to the San 
Francisco authorities to be tried for murder; conse- 
quently, the perplexed man could see no way of escape 
from Brigham Young’s command, so he watched 
anxiously for a favorable opportunity to break the 
news to his wife, and it soon came about in the follow- 
ing manner : 

Mrs. Vaughan’s death occurred rather suddenly 
during the second week in April ; her daughter was 
inconsolable, for she loved her mother devotedly. The 
affectionate girl was still more grieved and indignant 
with her father, who deemed it was his duty not tc 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


225 


appear to take his bereavement too much to heart on 
account of his other wives. 

A week after her mother’s death, Kate found life 
in her father’s home unbearable and she gratefully 
accepted an invitation from Mrs. Norris to pay her a 
visit. Emma’s heart went out to the poor young girl 
in hei great sorrow, she endeavored to soothe Kate by 
her sympathy and kind attentions. 

Daisy’s companionship was another source of 
anfailing comfort to the saddened, lonely girl. She 
felt comparatively cheerful with Emma and she 
dreaded to return home. 

One day Kate said to Emma, rather abruptly : “ I 
am going to leave Utah?” 

“ Why, where will you go ?” asked Emma, in aston- 
ishment. 

“ To my mother’s relatives in England for a year” — 
Kate checked herself suddenly, for she had confided to 
no one that she was betrothed to Lieutenant King. 

Emma shook her head as she said : 

“ I fear, dear, that your father will never consent 
to your leaving Salt Lake City ; besides, you are Hbo 
young to go traveling so far alone. I wish that you 
had a happy home of your own.” 

“I wish I had,” answered Kate, sighing, as she 
thought of her absent lover who was now stationed at 
Fort Adams, in distant Rhode Island, far away from 
her. She arose hastily and took Daisy by the hand 


14 


226 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


and went into the garden to hide from her friend the 
fast coming tears. 

As she left the room by one door, Norris entered 
it by another, and, catching sight of the look of sym- 
pathetic sadness on his wife’s face, he went to her at 
once. 

“Why do you look so sorrowful, little woman?” he 
asked, as he kissed her tenderly. 

“I am grieving for Kate. The poor gill is very 
unhappy and desires above all things to return to 
England. I do not believe that her father will ever 
consent to such a course on her part. What do you 
think are her chances of success with Mr. Vaughan ?” 

“ Not any ; he firmly believes that Utah is the 
promised land, and he certainly will not allow Kate tc 
leave it. Why not have her come and live with us 
You and she are almost like sisters.” 

“Yes, I do love Kate as I would a younger sister.” 

Norris saw his opportunity, and he seized it at once. 

“Then consent to my being sealed to her,” he said, 
“and you can always be together.” 

The indignant wife rose from her chair and con- 
fronted her husband with a face from which every 
particle of color had fled. She trembled in every 
limb while she gazed at her husband with a look of 
surprised inquiry, as though she could not believe 
that she had heard aright. When she spoke there was a 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


227 


cold, hard ring in her voice that warned the man what 
he had to encounter. 

“Do you desire to take Kate Vaughan as your 
plural wife ?” she asked. 

“I do ; at least the Prophet urges me to do so. 
He says that I am prosperous, and should support at 
least two wives.” 

“Traitor!” exclaimed Emma, infuriated by her 
husband’s ready compliance with the Prophet’s wishes. 
“Was it for this that you stole me from my good, 
kind husband, who loved me as you never can ? Was 
it to degrade me thus that you carried me away from 
a happy home ?” 

“You were my wife, not his. Why should I not 
take you with me when I found you again after so 
many years ?” 

“ Why did you not seek me in my own home ? Why 
did you so basely desert me after the close of the war ? 
You left me to struggle on alone while Ernest nobly 
stood by me. He sympathized with and helped me ; 
he waited patiently for the proper time when he might 
tell me of his love and ask me to be his wife. We had 
no good reason to doubt that you rested in a soldier’s 
grave when we were married. I committed an unin- 
tentional crime, for which I shall be pardoned, when I 
married Ernest Van Tine ; but I committed a willful 
one when I permitted myself to be entrapped into a 


228 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


second marriage with you — a crime for which I an now 
justly punished.” 

Emma poured forth all that had been dimly 
revolving in her mind ever since she found herself in 
the sleigh at Richard Norris’ side, en route to Salt 
Lake without her consent. Norris was for once 
overwhelmed, and he only found voice to say : 

“You should have thought of all this before you 
were sealed unto me here.” 

“ I did think of it ; but of what avail was that ? I 
was here in Utah, a helpless woman, and in your power. 
I bitterly regret my course now that it is too late.” 

“ Be sensible. I love you madly ; * everything is 
fair in love and war,’ is it not ?” 

“ A wretched doctrine, that only a coward would 
take advantage of.” 

“ But sometimes brave men stoop to conquer.” 

“ Richard, have you entirely forgotten the promise 
you made me when I consented to become your wife ?” 

“ No, Emma, I have not ; but the Prophet’s com- 
mands must be obeyed. Believe me, I do not do this 
of my own accord.” 

“ Are we slaves ?” 

“ No, but we are Mormons.” 

“Alas ; it is but another name for slavery. What 
power has this man over you, that you must obey 
such a mandate ?” 

“ A power that no man in Utah dares dispute.” 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


229 


“What would be the consequence of disobedience 
upon your part ?” 

“Death,” answered Norris, solemnly, his face 
growing a shade paler at the memories which the word 
brought to his mind. 

“ Do you mean to tell me that Brigham Young dares 
take the lives of men and woman whose death he thinks 
would benefit himself?” 

“ I mean to say that men and women have disap- 
peared often enough in Utah ; I mean to say that I 
dare not disobey the Prophet’s express command. He 
has us all in his power, Emma.” 

“ Great Heaven, what a horrible place this is. I 
knew that you were a Danite ; but never until now lid 
1 fully realize what that really meant.” 

“What does it mean ?” 

“ That you are simply Brigham Young’s execu- 
tioner ; a vile slave to do his bidding. In my opinion 
the Avenging Angels are men who, if they had their 
deserts, should be hung.” 

“ Have a care, Emma ; you may say too much. My 
patience is very nearly exhausted.” 

“ How dare you preach patience to me ? I have 
wrecked my life, and that of my child, by becoming a 
member of your vile church ; and you are responsible 
for it. I should be almost glad to have you take my 
life, were it not for Daisy. I have no desire to live 
except to protect her.” 


230 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


“ Come, Emma, be reasonable,” said Richard, try* 
ing another tack ; “you will always be the head of my 
household ; you are my first wife.” 

“ That does not alter the case in the least. 
Besides, I have not the slighest desire to make any 
woman suffer a thousand petty outrages at my hands, 
simply because she is your plural wife.” 

“ Then consent to my being sealed to your friend, 
and”— 

At this instant Kate entered the room with Daisy, 
her hands full of flowers, and her cheeks blooming 
with health and the glow of exercise. She paused, 
with a look of surprise at the half-angry expression on 
the faces of both husband and wife. With a woman’s 
quick intuition she perceived that she had interrupted 
a scene of domestic discord. 

Emma turned quickly to the young girl, and, point- 
ing to her husband, said, scornfully : 

“ Kate, will you consent to become Richard Nor- 
ris’ plural wife ?” 

Kate gazed at her friend in bewilderment, too sur- 
prised to utter a word. 

“ I again ask : Will you consent to become Rich- 
ard Norris’ wife ?” 

“Why, Emma, what do you mean?” asked Kate, 
indignantly. 

“ I mean that the man I married six months ago, 
and who promised then to take no other wife, has 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


231 


just asked me to consent to your being sealed unto 
him.” 

“ Emma, you surely will not consent to any such 
outrage ! In the first place, I would not marry your 
husband under any circumstances ; and in the second 
place, I will never willingly marry any man who is a 
Mormon, because I do not believe in polygamy. I 
believe the Gentile law of marriage to be the true one.” 

“But, Sister Kate,” interrupted Norris, “the 
Prophet has commanded that you be sealed unto me, 
and has gone to your father to obtain his consent.” 

Drawing herself to her full height, and glancing 
from husband to wife, Kate said, with the air of a 
queen : 

“ The Prophet can command ; his will is law in 
Utah. But hear me : I will never consent to become 
a Mormon wife !” 

“ But your consent is not asked, my dear girl ; you 
will be forced to obey your father and be sealed unto 
me. 

“You are mistaken, sir. I would sooner take my 
life than become any man’s plural wife. Besides, my 
father has not yet asked me to marry against my will.” 

“ He undoubtedly will do so ; and you will prob- 
ably change your mind regarding this matter. In 
Utah women must be obedient,” said Norris, as he 
left the room to avoid further discussion. 

The two women looked at each other for a 


232 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


moment, and then sobbed out their sorrows in eacii 
other’s arms. 

“ Oh, Kate, what shall we do ?” 

“ Heaven only knows Emma ; these Mormon 
tyrants are all-powerful in Utah. But you may rest 
assured of one thing ; I shall never consent to be thus 
degraded.” 

“Will your father consent to see you sacrificed 5 ” 

“ I hope not ; I trust not. Oh, mother, why did you 
leave your child alone in this wretched world ?” cried 
Kate, suddenly, the full danger of her situation reveal- 
ing itself to her mind. 

Life looked no longer fair to the young English 
girl, and she longed for the peace which she felt would 
only be hers when she had passed beyond the grave. 
The terrible hour had come, the hour that for years 
she had dreaded, when she should be commanded to 
consent to being sealed to some Mormon brother, 
whose religion she actually loathed. She was far too 
pure-minded, as well as far-seeing, to be able to 
believe in the teachings of Brigham Young as an 
inspired prophet. She hated Mormonism because it 
had been the cause of her beloved mother’s unhappi- 
ness ; it had made of her father, whom she had once 
loved, a blind fanatic, so that she could no longer help 
having for him a feeling of contempt. 

When she first came to Salt Lake City she was 
almost a child, she was not unhappy ; because she did 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


233 


not understand the scenes of domestic unhappiness 
and disagreements which she daily witnessed. But 
from the time that she had become old enough to 
understand and comprehend what slaves women were 
in that territory, she had felt in her secret heart an 
abhorrence and disgust for the institution of polyg- 
amy that had made her determined to die rather than 
consent to become a Mormon wife. 

Mrs. Vaughan, on her death-bed, had been very 
anxious regarding her daughter’s future. She had 
urged Kate to marry Lieutenant King and go with 
him to the East, a day before her death, but Kate 
would not listen to her mother’s prayers, as she knew 
she was all the comfort her mother had. 

As President Young had forbidden Mormons to 
wed Gentiles, Mrs. Vaughan feared that Kate could 
not be married in Utah, and she was anxious for her 
daughter to return to England to one of her own 
relatives until Charles King could obtain leave of 
absence and join her. Kate preferred to be married 
in England. She dreaded her lover’s return to Salt 
Lake City, for, if it were known that she was betrothed 
to him, it might cost him his life, as Kate had ref used 
to wed several wealthy Mormons. This made her 
afraid that Charles King might fall a victim to some 
fanatic’s murderous bullet. 

George Vaughan had solemnly promised his wife 
that their daughter should return to England. The 


234 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


poor mother died contented, believing that she had 
secured her daughter’s happiness and had saved 
her from the horrible fate of ever becoming a Mormon 
wife. 

These facts Kate related to her friend, who said, 
fervently, at the close of the recital : 

“ Oh, Kate, God grant that your father will keep 
his promise ; it is now our only chance. We shall 
soon know, however.” 

“ I hope that he will keep his promise to my 
mother, but I seriously doubt his doing so. He is a 
blind, devoted follower of the Prophet.” 

“ That man seems to have entire control over his 
followers.” 

“Yes, he is a despot pure and simple, no one in 
this community dares dispute his will.” 

“ Kate, I can hardly bring myself to believe all 
that I hear of the extent of the Prophet’s power.” 

“ If you had lived as long in Salt Lake City as I 
have, you would find no difficulty in comprehending 
the fact that no more bloody despotism has disgraced 
the world in modern times than this of Brigham 
Young’s. He, in the self-appointed role of God’s 
vice-gerent on earth, has held the lives, liberty and 
the property of the people of Utah in his hands for 
years. Disobedience of his commands, lack of entire 
submission to his will, is accounted by him a crime 
which can be atoned for only by blood.” 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


235 


“My dear Kate,” asked Emma, while her eyes 
dilated with horror, “ are the dreadful stories that I 
hear whispered about the doctrine of blood-a:onement 
true ?” 

“ Without doubt they are, Emma. I believe that 
many murders — for I can call them nothing else — 
have been committed in Utah by the Danites, or 
Avenging Angels, as they are called, who are the exe- 
cutioners of the Prophet’s will.” 

“ Oh, Kate, Dick is a Danite !” 

“ I know it.” 

“ I cannot believe it ; I cannot believe that the 
lover of my girlhood has become a murderer to please 
his friend. It is too horrible for belief.” 

“Do you know that no man or woman in Salt 
Lake dares to accuse a Danite of any crime ? They 
are looked upon as the chosen instruments of a Divine 
Justice.” 

“ Does the Prophet preach this doctrine openly ?” 

“ Certainly he does ; you can read the reported 
sermons, which are published in the Desert News , 
the official organ of the Mormon church. Blood- 
Atonement, as preached by the Elders and practiced 
by their people, means the offering of human sacri- 
fice for the remission of sins. I have myself heard 
Brigham Young say that there are certain sins which 
the blood of Christ could not wash away ; but when 
a man’s own blood is shed, and the smoke thereof 


m 


THE BROKEN PROMISE. 


ascends as a sweet incense to Heaven, then are his sins 
remitted.” 

“ It is no wonder to me now that Richard said that 
he did not dare disobey the Prophet’s wishes in this 
matter ! Brigham Young is a dangerous man !” 

“Oh, my friend, I wish that I had never slept a 
single night under your roof, and possibly this sorrow 
might have been spared us !” 

“ It might have been spared you, Kate, but the 
Prophet would have commanded Richard to be sealed 
to another wife all the same.” 

“I am resolved to die, Emma, rather than live to 
become any man’s plural wife !” said Kate, with the 
light of a firm resolve shining in her eyes. 

“ Heaven will protect us, Kate. Let us kneel and 
pray to God. He will not desert those who have faith 
in Him.” 

And these two pure-minded victims of religious 
fanaticism, who had been so strangely thrown in each 
other’s way, and who were destined to cause each other the 
bitterest sorrow of their lives, knelt and fervently 
prayed to their Heavenly Father to protect and deliver 
them from their enemies. 


A MORMON FATHER 8 FANATICISM. 


237 


CHAPTER XXI. 

A MORMON FATHER’S FANATICISM. 

The two women rose from their knees strengthened 
and calmed by their simple devotions. It seemed to 
them that some unforeseen aid would be vouchsafed 
them from Heaven. 

Norris did not return to tea, and the meal was 
sent away untasted, except by Daisy, who was too 
young to understand the sorrowful expression of her 
mother’s face or Kate’s gloomy silence. 

A little later Mr. Vaughan called and Mrs. Norris 
left father and daughter alone, hoping that Kate 
would be able to win her father to their side. Emma 
felt it to be an almost hopeless task. What Kate had 
told her of Mr. Vaughan’s fanaticism convinced 
Emma that he would coincide with the Prophet. 

George Vaughan had never had very much sym- 
pathy with his daughter. Kate too frankly declared 
her unbelief in the doctrines of Mormonism, until her 
father was convinced that she was devoid of spiritual 
grace ; in fact, he felt that his daughter was a great 
trial to him. He would have readily consented to 
have her return to England had he not known that 



238 A MORMON FATHHR’S FANATICISM. 

by doing so, he should incur the displeasure of Presi- 
dent Young, who decidedly disapproved of any of his 
foreign subjects returning to their own country. 

The Prophet was shrewd ; he knew that he 
depended upon them to perpetuate his system. Most 
of the foreign converts are simple, ignorant people, 
beyond any class of Americans, and they fall easy 
victims to the wily missionaries that the Mormon 
church sends abroad. 

Kate Vaughan greeted her father kindly as he 
entered the room, and then silently waited for him to 
begin the battle, which she was aware was about to be 
fought between them. 

“ My daughter, I called this morning to see you on 
an affair of importance. President Young has com- 
manded me to get your consent to become the plural 
wife of Brother Norris.” 

“ Father, have you entirely forgotten the promise 
that you made to my dying mother ?” 

“ Daughter, such a promise was sinful, and there- 
fore it is not binding.” 

“ Sinful to promise to guard your child from dis- 
honor V' 

“ Dishonor V * 

“ Yes, dishonor. You ask me to marry my friend’s 
husband ; to betray her, to wrong her as only one 
woman can wrong another.” 


A MORMON FATHER’S FANATICISM. 


239 


“ You speak as though I was asking you to com- 
mit a crime.” 

“ I do, Father, for you are asking me to become the 
handmaid of a man I do not love. To become a 
plural wife ; a favorite for a few months, and then see 
other wives follow in my footsteps !” 

“ According to our law all wives are treated 
alike.” 

“ Father, I have seen even good Mormons evince a 
preference. They always have a favorite wife. 
Nature’s voice cannot be crushed even by our despotic 
religious laws.” 

“ You reason like a Gentile woman,” cried Brother 
Vaughan, with a frown of displeasure. 

“ I speak as my heart dictates. I believe marriage 
to be sinful unless it is sanctified by love.” 

“ Now you are talking like a silly, romantic girl. 
By being sealed to Brother Norris, you will ensure 
your eternal salvation.” 

“ I do not believe it. I shall only wreck my life 
and imperil my soul,” replied Kate, as she thought of 
her absent lover. 

“ Kate, you know it has been revealed that a 
woman cannot go to heaven unless she be sealed.” 

“ I do not believe in that silly doctrine. Possibly 
I am superstitious, but not enough so to believe such 
an outrageous idea. I have not the faith of old Sally 
Combs, who, as you know, lived all her life single, 


240 


A MORMON FATHER’S FANATICISM. 


refusing to be sealed to any man until she found her- 
self dying, and then sent for Brother Grey in great 
haste, so that she might be sure of eternal salvation.” 

“What you deem silly and superstitious, girl, is 
an exalted faith in the revealed Word of God.” 

“ Father, I do not believe that Brigham Young is a 
Prophet.” 

“ Do you believe that the Bible is the inspired 
Word of God ?” 

“Yes, I firmly believe in the inspiration of the 
Bible.” 

“ If the old Patriarchs received revelations direct 
from Heaven, why should not Brigham Young receive 
them ?” 

“ It does not follow that I can see. At any rate, I 
doubt if he has ever received a heavenly communica- 
tion, and I for one refuse to submit to his tyranny, 
and you can tell him so.” 

“ My poor, misguided girl, you must obey the 
Prophet.” 

“ I repeat that I would rather die than become any 
man’s plural wife.” 

“ Kate, you have never examined our doctrine of 
plural marriage ; let me explain it to you. Polygamy 
was not of our seeking; it came to us from Heaven. 
We recognized, and still do recognize, in it the voice 
of Him whose right it is not only to teach us, but to 
dictate to us and to all men ; for in his hands is the 


A MORMON FATHER’S FANATICISM. 241 

breath of our nostrils, the life and existence of the 
proudest.” 

Kate simply looked at her father and shook her 
head doubtfully and sadly. 

“ I know, my child, it is extremely difficult — nay, 
well-nigh impossible — for those who have not been 
blessed by the gift of the Holy Spirit to enter into 
our feelings in this matter.” 

“You must, then, understand, Father, that it is 
impossible for me to believe in any direct revelation 
from Heaven in favor of polygamy. I am not, nor 
can I become a hypocrite.” 

“ Do not brand a whole people, Kate, with the foul 
stigma of hypocrisy. From their leader to the latest 
converts, who have come to these dreary mountain 
wilds for the sake of their faith, they have proved 
their honesty of purpose, and their deep sincerity, by 
the most sublime sacrifices.” 

“ Of course, there are any number of fanatics in 
this world.” 

“Kate, you admit the truth of the first revelation ; 
why not admit the truth of the second. If one is from 
God, all others must have their origin in the same 
Divine source.” 

“ Father, I cannot believe that God ever inspired 
the doctrine of Mormon marriage. I am only a girl, 
perhaps not a very intellectual one, but I am not 
insane.” 

si 


/ 


242 A MORMON FATHER’S FANATICISM. 

“ Kate, do you mean to insinuate that we Mormons 
are lunatics ?” asked Mr. Vaughan, angrily. 

“ No, Father, the majority are the dupes of artful 
impostors,” replied Kate, firmly, as sho looked at her 
father with a pathetically sad expression on her beau- 
tiful face. 

“ My child, I cannot understand why you are con- 
vinced our ideas of marriage are immoral.” 

“ Father, plural marriage, in my opinion, is crimi- 
nal, and what you term spiritual marriage, revolting. 
How can any one believe in marriage for the dead, by 
which living women are sealed to dead men, and Ace 
versa , some one standing proxy for the dead. But let 
us waive the argument of revelation, upon which we 
shall never agree, and consider the question from the 
standpoint of affection ; yes, of common feeling. How 
can a man love a number of wives ?” 

“Just the same as a parent is able to love more 
than one child. You do not often find one child in a 
family jealous because of the parents’ love for the 
others.” 

“Father, I have seen a great deal of jealousy among 
Mormon wives.” 

“ My dear, perfect happiness is not to be found in 
this world in any condition of life. How many 
monogamic wives, think you, curse the hour that they 
ever entered into the bonds of wedlock. Every argu- 
ment against polygamy can be met by a counter 


A MORMON FATHER’S FANATICISM. 


243 


argument in its favor. The people of this country- 
have had experience in the workings of both forms of 
marriage. Take fifty families in this community, 
indiscriminately, and the same number in the same 
manner from any monogamic country in the world, 
and there will be found more conjugal happiness in 
the former than in the latter.” 

“ Father, you cannot alter my belief by a repetition 
of these arguments, which I have heard over and over 
again. My belief is fixed. I would rather be the sole 
wife of a man than a plural wife.” 

“What difference can it make?” 

“ Not much, perhaps, to those who are convinced 
of the truth of your faith ; but to me, who am not at 
all convinced of it, it makes all the difference in the 
world. I could not become the wife of a man for 
whom I had no affection. On the contrary, if I loved 
my husband I should want to share his every thought ; 

I should not be willing to permit the obtrusion of 
even the most dearly-loved sister,” said Kate, decided- 
ly, as the hot, indignant blood dyed her cheeks. 

“My wives are perfectly contented,” remarked Mr. 
Vaughan, complacently. 

“ Because they are women without any great depth 
of feeling. Mrs. Courtney has no right to complain, 
as she followed you to Utah to supplant my dear 
mother, who was a thoroughly wretched woman from 


244 


A MORMON FATHER S FANATICISM. 


the hour that she knew you were false to her. Do not 
force me to suffer my mother’s martyrdom.” 

George Vaughan raised his eyes to his daughter’s 
face in pained surprise ; for a moment he was silent 
as if his conscience smote him, but by an effort of his 
will he assumed an indifferent air, for he wished to 
convince his daughter that his treatment of her mother 
had been justifiable. 

“Pshaw!” he exclaimed, impatiently. “Kate, you 
are wrong. Your mother was an invalid, and besides, 
she had a morbid imagination and made herself 
unhappy over trifles.” 

“ Father, you malign my mother’s memory,” re- 
plied Kate, indignantly. “ She loved you and her 
heart was broken because you took other wives. I 
alone witnessed her mental agony. I have seen her 
walk the floor night after night, while she shed the 
bitterest tears that a woman can shed. Her heart was 
wrung with misery and she welcomed death as a 
happy release from her sufferings.” 

“Unfortunately, Kate, your mother was of a jeal- 
ous disposition.” 

“Yes, where you were concerned. It was to pre- 
vent me, her daughter, from a fate as wretched as her 
own that she implored you on her death-bed to per- 
mit me to return to England.” 

“I could not think of allowing you to go there 


A MORMON FATHER’S FANATICISM. 


245 


alone, Kate. You are a young girl, and would be ex- 
posed to many dangers in taking such a journey.” 

“ I shall be exposed to greater ones here.” 

“ Besides, the Prophet,” continued Mr Vaughan, 
not noticing his daughter’s interruption, “would not 
allow you to depart. If I sent you out of Utah I 
should be made to suffer even as Charles Graham was. 
He sent his child to her Gentile grandmother in San 
Francisco, in compliance with his wife’s dying request. 
What was the consequence ? His land was made to 
suffer from drought. You know that the land is all 
irrigated, and the Mormon church owns all our 
ditches and the water. The Prophet has only to have 
the flow to any man’s property stopped, and that man 
must starve or repent.” 

“Did Charles Graham repent?” 

“ No, he was obliged to leave Utah to save his 
life.” 

“ A charming system of religion, which requires 
that a man should break his promise and go against 
his own conscience in order to satisfy a tyrant like 
Brigham Young !*’ cried Kate, passionately. 

“ Kate, I command you not to speak so disrespect- 
fully of the Prophet. I have the right to say to whom 
you shall be sealed ; you dare not refuse, because you 
are a part of my flesh. No one has a right to take 
you unless I give my permission.” 

“Oh, Father ! I beg of you to have pity upon me 


21G 


A MORMON FATHER’S FANATICISM. 


Do not insist upon my making this terrible sacrifice. 
I despi.se Brother Norris. I look upon him with hor- 
ror as a murderer, for he is a Danite.” 

“ Therefore, he is the more to be respected ; be- 
cause he enjoys the confidence of the Prophet,” re- 
plied George Vaughan. 

“ I would as soon be sealed to the vilest murderer 
as to that man. Heaven only knows how deeply 
dyed his hands are with the blood of his neighbor,” 
replied Kate, shuddering visibly. 

“ Child, you talk wildly. Brother Norris is a great 
light in the Mormon church. He has made your 
friend a good husband, and I have no doubt that he 
will make you a good husband, too.” 

“Father,” ejaculated the poor girl, looking at her 
fanatical but sincere parent in dismay, “can you 
calmly urge me to submit to such a wretched fate ?” 

“ Bah ! you will soon get over these strained 
notions and settle down into a sensible and happy 
woman when you are Brother Norris’ wife.” 

“ Father,” cried the young girl in desperation, 
grasping her father’s hand to compel his attention, 
“ have mercy upon me. Do not force me to an act 
which even you, in your blind fanaticism, will regret 
as long as you live. Protect me, Father ; do not allow 
me to be sealed to that cruel man ! I love another !” 
exclaimed Kate, sobbing as if her heart would break. 

“ Calm yourself, Kate ; it is impossible for me to 


24 ? 


A MORMON FATHER'S FANATICISM. 

grant your prayer. I must obey the commands of the 
Prophet ; I dare not disobey his express orders, even 
if I did not myself believe that this step will be for 
your good. You will get over your foolish fancy for 
Lieutenant King. You mother told me that he had 
proposed to you, but as he never asked my consent to 
your engagement, he knew that I would never allow 
him to wed you. He has gone East and forgotten you 
by this time. Young officers amuse themselves with 
young ladies. Even if he were in earnest, I would 
never consent to your becoming the wife of a Gentile.” 

The poor girl now abandoned all hope. She turned 
from her father with a gesture of despair and there 
settled on her face such a look of misery that the rigid 
old fanatic shrunk from encountering her gaze. 

“Father,” she said, “ I shall obey you — I must obey 
you ; but may Heaven forgive you for the course you 
have taken to-day ; it seems to me that I never can. 
My obedience will be purchased at a frightful cost and 
Heaven will, I believe, hold you responsible.” 

As she finished speaking, Kate turned to leave the 
room, but staggered and fell in a swoon at her father's 
feet. 

“ Heaven forgive me if I am doing wrong, but it is 
the Prophet’s command and I must obey him,” 
thought the poor man, his conscience smiting him for a 
brief moment. Then he called for assistance in reviv- 
ing his daughter. When he saw her eyes slowly open - 


248 


A MORMON FATHER’S FANATICISM. 


he took his departure, trying to strengthen his position 
in his own mind by thinking he had only done his duty, 
and Kate would live to thank him for the course he 
had pursued with her when she was Richard Norris' 
plural wife 


i BAFFLED. 


240 


CHAPTER XXII. 

BAFFLED. 

As soon as Kate was able to walk, Emma assisted 
her to her room, and induced her to lie down ; but the 
maddening thoughts that her conversation with her 
father had forced upon her prevented her from get- 
ting either rest or sleep. 

“ Kate, dear,” said Emma, anxiously, “do try and 
sleep. You will be ill if you grieve in this way !” 

“ I wish that I were dead !” cried this wretched 
victim of Mormon injustice ; and rising from her bed 
she commenced walking the floor and wringing her 
hands. Her anguish and excitement were pitiable to 
see. 

“ My dear friend, try and be calm ; you will need 
all your strength.” 

“ How can I be calm when my own father has 
refused to help me or to listen to my prayer ? How 
can you be so composed, Emma ?” 

“ I appear calm, Kate, but it is the calmness of 
despair. Oh, why did I not take your advice, and fly 
from Utah before it was too late? What evil spirit 
was it that tempted me to become a Mormon, and 
above all, a Mormon wife ?” 

11 * 


2>50 


BAFFLED. 


“ Your fate was too strong for yon.” 

“ Alas ! I believe we make our own fate !” 

“ Or circumstances weave around us the meshes 
of a net that is too strong for us to break ; and we 
quietly submit in the end. I have felt for years an 
impression that my father’s mad infatuation for this 
accursed religion would wreck my life as it did my 
mother’s. I longed to get away from Utah, but I 
could not leave my dear mother, for she had only me 
to comfort and care for her.” 

“ Have you no friends or acquaintances among the 
Gentile families of this region with whom you can 
find an asylum for a little time ?” 

“ No, I have not a true friend except yourself in 
this country. All our friends are among the Mor- 
mons, and they would only laugh at my scruples. 
Besides that, they would not dare to defy the Prophet 
by sheltering me at such a time.” 

“ What are we to do ?” 

“ Submit.” 

“Great Heavens, Kate ! are you going to submit to 
the sacrifice ?” 

“ How can I escape, surrounded as I am by people 
who believe most implicitly in this detestable doc- 
trine? Even my own father tells me that he cannot 
help me. Oh, Emma ! was there ever such a vile 
religion in existence ?” 

“ Never, I believe. I now acknowledge that you 


BAFFLED. 


251 


were right in all you told me before my marriage 
about the degradation of Mormonism. I see it all, 
now that it is too late. Its influence has so changed 
the playmate of my childhood and the lover of my 
youth, that his own mother would not know him. 
This change is due, it seems to me, to the dangerous 
and poisonous teachings of Brigham Young.” 

“ Oh, Emma, appeal to your husband ?” 

“ No ; I have already done so, and in vain. He, 
like all the rest, says he is in President Young’s power, 
and cannot disobey him.” 

“ If God does not send me miraculous help I am 
doomed !” and the poor girl wept convulsively at the 
thought of her forlorn condition. 

Emma tried to soothe her friend, although her own 
heart was very heavy. All feeling seemed dead within 
her, and she waited for the blow with the calmness of 
despair. She could not, for herself, be reconciled to 
accept the fate which Mormon wives know is inevit- 
able for them. She had not changed her opinion 
regarding the marriage law when she became a Mor- 
mon. But the acuteness of her own sufferings was 
dulled by the anxiety she felt for Kate, and the sight 
of her misery wrung her heart. 

In this sad hour she longed with an unutterable 
longing for the presence of the father of her child, for 
she now felt how superior was Ernest Van Tine’s love 
to that of her Mormon husband. 


252 


BAFFLED. 


Norris did not come home until late, then he went 
immediately to his own room. His wife was not 
there ; he was not surprised, for he knew that Emma 
would object to accept even Kate as a partner in his 
affections. He really was very unhappy about the 
whole matter ; he would have been better pleased to 
have matters remain as they had been for the past few 
months. But it was impossible to defy the Prophet, 
and he felt just a trifle indignant with Emma because 
she would not accept the inevitable, and try to influ- 
ence Kate to do so too. So he retired without seeing 
either of the wretched women, who were thankful to 
be spared the trial. 

Towards midnight Kate fell into an uneasy sleep. 
Silence settled over the household ; Emma’s footstep, 
as she paced back and forth, was the only sound that 
disturbed it. She could not rest. Her heart was beat-, 
ing violently, and she felt that she must move about 
or she would lose her senses. 

All the past rushed over her, and she saw clearly 
that she had been in a measure responsible for the 
present trouble. She had yielded too easily to the 
wishes of the two men who had loved her. If she 
knew now where to seek Van Tine, she would have 
gladly done so ; he would protect Kate and herself. 
Alas ! it was too late ! 

Then she stole down to her little daughter’s room, 
and gazed long and sadly upon the face of the little 


BAFFLED. 


253 


one, who was asleep with her doll in her chubby little 
arms, her long golden hair streaming over the pillow ; 
the picture of childhold’s sweet repose. 

“ Oh, my baby, my baby !” cried the poor mother, 
why did I ever consent to that vile divorce, which 
bereft you of a father and me of a true and loving hus- 
band ? I should have been divorced from Richard 
and returned to Ernest, for he was the father of my 
child ! Oh, God in Heaven ! what will become of 
us ?” sobbed the poor mother, giving way to the feel- 
ing of utter misery, loneliness and helplessness which 
oppressed her. 

The next morning Norris and Daisy took his 
breakfast alone. 

“ Where is Mamma ?” he asked the child. 

. “Mamma is up stairs with Aunt Kate ; she is sick.” 

“ Who do you mean is ill, Daisy ; Mamma or Aunt 
Kate ?” 

“Aunt Kate.” 

“ What is the matter with Aunt Kate, Daisy ?” 

“ Oh, don’t you know, Papa Norris ? Her papa 
came last night, and he scolded Aunt Kate so that she 
fainted ; and she is in bed now.” 

“ The old brute ! Why could he not leave the girl 
alone ?” muttered Norris to himself, rising from the 
table with his breakfast untasted. 

Strange as it may appear, Norris had not the least 
desire to force Kate to his arms, though he did feel 


254 


BAFFLED. 


provoked with Emma for her refusal to submit to hit 
wishes, for had he not told her that he was in the 
Prophet’s power ? 

Just as Norris was on his way to his wife’s apart- 
ment, in order to see for herself that what Daisy had 
told him was true, the house bell rang. He opened 
the door himself, and was a little surprised to see 
Brother Vaughan and a well-known elder of the Mor- 
mon church awaiting admission. After the gentlemen 
were seated in the parlor, Mr. Vaughan handed Norris 
a letter, saying : 

“A letter from President Young, which he asked 
me to hand you. Please read it.” 

For an instant the Danite hesitated, and then he 
tore open the letter and read as follows : 

“ Dear Friend : — 

“ I will await you and your bride (Kate Vaughan) 
at the Endowment House at ten o’clock to-day. 
Please be prompt ; I wish to seal you unto Sister Kate 
myself. 

“ Yours sincerely. 

“Brigham Young.” 

After reading the letter, Norris, turned to Mr. 
Vaughan and said : 

“ I suppose you know the purport of this note ?” 

“I do ; and I come to see that my daughter does 


BAFFLED. 


255 


her part toward fulfiling its command. She must 
obey the Prophet at all costs.” 

“ But she is ill.” 

“ I am sorry to hear it ; but I hope she will be able 
to drive to the Endowment House and back again. 
May I see her?” 

“ Certainly. Daisy, take Mr. Vaughan to Aunt 
Kate’s room.” 

“ I will, Papa Norris, if he will promise not to make 
Aunt Kate cry,” said the child. 

“ No, child, I won’t make her cry. So you call my 
daughter Aunty, do you, little girl?” 

“Yes; and we love her like a real aunty, too,” 
answered Daisy, as she led Vaughan up to his daugh- 
ter’s room. 

Kate had just finished dressing, for she felt that 
she must exert herself, and that she had no time tc 
lose if she would save herself from destruction. She 
had made up her mind to go to Camp Douglass and 
ask protection of the officer in command of the post. 
It was her only hope. She had but little money, for 
her father had never been very liberal to her ; she 
believed, however, that if she could reach Camp 
Douglass, the Colonel, with whom she was acquainted, 
would protect her, also loan her sufficient funds to en- 
able her to go to Rhode Island, where she could join 
Lieutenant King. 

She was very weak, and could scarcely manage to 


256 


BAFFLED. 


stand long enough to complete her toilet, but she 
knew that the Prophet — who always managed to 
enforce his authority — would allow her but a short 
respite, so she made the effort to go at once. Emma 
thought the idea was a good one ; at any rate, worth 
trying ; and she was dressing in order to accompany 
Kate a part of the way. She knew that the poor girl 
was too ill to go so far alone, but she felt that she 
must return and brave the storm which Kate’s escape 
was sure to raise. While they were discussing their 
plan, they heard Daisy’s voice at the door : 

“ Mamma, please open the door.” 

Emma opened the door to admit Daisy, and was 
thunderstruck to see Mr. Vaughan standing beside 
the child. 

“ Good-morning, Sister Emma. I have come to 
inquire how Kate is this morning.” 

Kate saw her father and heard his question, and 
she answered him : 

“I feel a little better, thank you,” replied Kate, 
coolly. 

“ 1 am glad of it, for I am sent by the Prophet to 
bring you to the Endowment House.” 

“ Merciful Heaven !” shrieked the unhappy girl. 

“ He will seal you himself to Brother Norris.” 

“ No, no, Father ; not so soon ! Go and beg the 
Prophet to give me a little time before I accept my 
fate.” 


BAFFLED. 


257 


“ My dear Kate, we must obey the Prophet’s com- 
mands.” 

“Mr. Vaughan, how can you force your daughter 
to become the plural wife of my husband ?” demanded 
Emma, indignantly. 

“Sister Norris, it is the wish of President Young, 
and as good Mormons we must submit to his wishes 
in the matter.” 

“ Not when he demands of you the sacrifice of your 
daughter’s happiness. Kate does not even like my 
husband ; she does not believe in the doctrine of 
plural marriage. Why will you persist in aiding 
President Young in his attempt to wreck her fresh 
young life,” said Emma, excitedly. 

“ Because I believe, Sister Norris, that Kate does 
not know what is best for her own happiness.” 

“ Father, you are consigning me to a fate to which 
death would be far preferable. You will not listen to 
my prayers ; I am a helpless girl in your power, and I 
must yield. But remember what I say : you will pur- 
chase my obedience at a terrible price. May God for- 
give you for your work this day ; I never can /” 

“ Daughter,' you will live to think otherwise.” 

“ Never !” cried Kate. 

“ Come, we have not a moment to lose ; we must 
be at the Endowment House by ten o’clock, and 
it is after nine now,” said Mr. Vaughan, consulting 
his watch.” 


16 


258 


BAFFLED. 


Kate put on her bonnet and mantle, and followed 
her father quietly down stairs. She even allowed her 
would-be husband to hand her to the carriage that 
was waiting at the door, without a word of protest. 
During the drive to the Endowment House, Kate sat 
pale and silent. When they arrived at their destina- 
tion, she made no resistance, but followed her father 
into the Sealing Room, where the Prophet was wait- 
ing to seal her to the man she loathed. 

Brigham Young smiled a little when the party 
entered the room, but he only said : 

“ I am delighted to be able to seal you, Sister Kate, 
to so good a husband as Brother Norris. Daughter, 
do you gladly accept the proud position of handmaid 
to my friend ?” 

“ I do not.” 

“ Sister Kate, your position will be an exalted one, 
as the plural wife of Brother Norris.” 

Kate Vaughan looked at the Prophet with flashing 
eyes. 

“ There is possibly some excuse for my father’s con- 
duct in this affair ; his fanaticism has driven him even 
to the destruction of the happiness of his own child. 
But you, whose blood is cold, and whose hypocrisy is 
so evident, to you I appeal. I do not submit willingly 
to this sacrifice of myself, and my own wishes in this 
most important matter of my life. I do not acknowl- 
edge your authority over me, nor your right to force 


BAFFLED. 


259 


me to accept as a husband the man I detest. Above 
all, I ask you why you insist upon sealing me to the 
husband of another ?” 

“ Because I will to do it ; and when I will a thing 
who shall say otherwise ?” 

“ I will,” answered the voice of Emma Norris. 
She had just entered the room, and was quite out of 
breath, for she had not lost a moment in following the 
bridal party to the Endowment House. 

Norris started, and exclaimed under his breath : 

“Emma ! She is mad !” 

Brigham Young frowned heavily. 

“ Why are you here, Sister Emma, if you come in 
no friendly spirit ?” he demanded. 

“To beg of you to spare my friend.” 

“ My dear woman, you know our law forbids a 
man to have but one wife, if he is able to support 
more than one.” 

“ Oh, Prophet, you are all powerful here, and your 
victims tremble before yor. ; but you will be punished 
by the Judge of All in the last Great Day. Yoirshall 
ask for mercy, and you shall be refused, if you do not 
have mercy on that poor girl,” said Emma, excitedly. 

“ Silence, woman !” commanded the Prophet. 

“ I refuse to be silent ; I protest against this infa- 
mous outrage. Richard Nor:is is my husband — my 
twice-wedded husband ; he is joined to me by bonds 
so strong that only death can sever them.” 


260 


BAFFLED. 


“ Brother Norris, the woman is mad !” 

“ Oh, you inhuman father, how can you thus sac- 
rifice your own child ? I blush for you !” cried 
Emma, as her eyes flashed scornfully at George 
Vaughan. 

“ Emma, remember where you are !” exclaimed 
Norris, in some excitement. 

“ Let your memory take you to the blacksmith’s 
shop, where we met, after years of separation, nearly 
a year ago. Believing you to be dead, I had married 
again a man who was both true and loyal, and who 
was to me a loving and devoted husband. When he 
discovered that he had wronged you, though it had 
been done unintentionally, Ernest did not hesitate to 
sacrifice his happiness to yours ; he nobly relinquished 
his claim upon me in your favor. What return have 
you made for that sacrifice, Richard ?” 

“ This talk is useless, Emma ; we must obey the 
Prophet’s commands.” 

“ Sister Norris,” interrupted the Prophet, “you are 
the first wife, your claim no one can dispute. You 
will always remain at the head of your husband’s 
household.” 

“I shall be first in my husband’s household, but 
not first in his heart. And you, sir, by what right do 
you style yourself a prophet and your followers saints ? 
You transform them into murderers, perjurers and 
outlaws. You rob women of their happiness and 


BAFFLED. 


261 


honor ; and you do your vile work under lhe garb 
and in the name of religion.” 

“ Sister, reason has forsaken you ; you offer the 
objections of the Gentiles to our divinely-revealed law 
of plural marriage. God has given to the Latter-Day 
Saints the same powers that He gave to the Saints of 
old. Therefore it was that the Lord revealed it unto 
me that I should command the Latter-Day Saints, 
like the saints of old, to have more handmaids than 
one. If the old law was right, so is the new. God 
can make all things clear to his Saints. Have faith, 
Sister Emma, and all things will be added unto you.” 

“ How can I have faith in your claims, when I see 
such crimes committed in the name of religion ? On 
my knees I implore you to spare this young girl !” 
implored Emma, casting herself down before the un- 
relenting Prophet. 

“ Arise, Sister ; it is better as it is. Your heart is 
too much possessed by the affairs of the world; the 
Lord requires you to sacrifice your feelings. Those 
who make sacrifices for the Lord will lay hold of 
eternal life. You will be enabled by faith to endure 
to the end.” 

“ Monster !” exclaimed Emma, indignantly, rising 
from her knees, “ I blush that I condescended to ask 
anything of you in the name of mercy. Your heart is 
too much hardened by a long life of iniquity to be 
moved by the prayers of the Just. I will appeal to 


262 


BAFFLED. 


the Federal authorities,” cried the excited woman, as 
she walked hastily towards the door of the Sealing 
Room. 

“ Stop her !” commanded the Prophet ; and Emma 
was seized by Brother Vaughan and the elder who had 
come to witness the ceremony, and, in spite of her 
struggles, was placed in a chair that stood in one 
corner of the Sealing Room. The instant that she 
was fairly seated in this chair, the arms closed together 
with a snap, and the poor woman found herself com- 
pletely deprived of her liberty. It was useless now to 
struggle. From each of the arms of this chair there 
projected a strip of iron which closed in the centre 
with a spring, and locked themselves securely, thus 
leaving no chance of escape for the unfortunate, who 
became imprisoned within their iron embrace. 

“ There, Sister, upon the chair* of atonement you 
shall offer your expiation ; for it is only through 
penance that we can satisfy the Lord. You will 
remain where you are until sundown. Employ your 
time in prayer ; ask the Lord to give you faith, and to 
make you humble and meek of heart.” 

Norris had witnessed his wife’s humiliation 
unmoved ; he believed her to be only justly punished 
for her outrageous behavior. Mormon husbands exact 
strict obedience from their wives ; and woe to the 
woman who dares murmur against the decree of her 
lord and master. 


RAFFLED. 


263 


The Prophet turned quietly to the bridal party and 
said : “ I will now proceed to seal the child of the 
saintly Vaughan to Brother Norris and the ceremony 
proceeded without further interruption. Kate no 
longer attempted to make the slightest resistance, but 
answered the questions put to her by the Prophet 
mechanically. When the ceremony was completed 
the entire party left the room, without so much as a 
word or look at the prisoner in the chair. 

Emma felt as though she were doomed, and she 
prayed for strength to die bravely. She did not for a 
moment suppose that she should be released from her 
confinement ; she fully expected her life would be the 
price of her temerity. 

The long weary hours passed and no one came 
near her. She began to grow faint ; her temples 
throbbed ; her limbs ached from the cramped position 
in which she was compelled to sit. 

After what seemed to the wretched woman an age, 
the sun set and darkness began to settle around her. 
Still no one came to her ; and she expected now to 
remain a prisoner until the following morning. It 
see;med to her impossible that she could support the 
agony of her situation through the night. She thought 
of her little one, and regretted that she had not been 
more cautious in her efforts for her friend’s release. 
When she thought of the circumstances and events of 
the past few days, a txiety and despair almost unset- 


BAFFLED. 


2f4 

tied her brain. Suddenly she heard far away the 
sound of footsteps ; they came towards her door ; and 
in a few moments a key turned in the lock, and the 
elder who had been present in the morning entered 
the room, took a key from his pocket and deliberately 
unlocked the iron bands that imprisoned her. 

Emma made several efforts to rise before she was 
able to do so, and then she could only walk with the 
utmost difficulty. She could scarcely use her feet. 
The blood had stagnated during her long continuance 
in one position. 

Finally the elder said to her : 

“ Sister Norris, you can return to your home. 
The Prophet desired me to say to you that he had 
not punished you severely, because he felt convinced 
that your sharp tongue had caused you to utter words 
which your heart and your reason would not permit 
you to endure. Let me tell you to beware how you 
again offend the Prophet. Other women have been 
punished far more severely for much less than you 
were guilty of to-day.” 

Emma made no reply to the elder’s message or his 
admonition. She was thankful on her child’s account 
that her freedom had been restored to her. When 
she found herself alone in the street, she made her 
way with ail possible haste towards her home, where 
she was destined to witness a scene, the horror of 
which would haunt her to her dying day. 


kate vaughan’s despair. 


265 


CHAPTER XXIII. 
kate vaughan's despair. 

When the bridal party left the Endowment House, 
Mr. Vaughan accompanied his daughter and Norris to 
the residence of the latter. After they had entered 
the house Norris turned to Kate, and said, kindly : 

“ Welcome home.” 

Kate’s eyes flashed with indignation, and the hot 
blood dyed her cheeks crimson, for she felt the degra- 
dation of her position. She was trembling with pent- 
up rage, but she remained silent. 

Her father perceiving that she did not answer, 
turned to her and asked : 

“ Kate, did you hear your husband speaking to 
you ?” 

“ He is not my husband,” answered the persecuted 
girl, sharply. 

“ My dear child, why do you persist in your Gen- 
tile ideas ?” 

“ It is not that I am a Gentile, but my belief as a 
Mormon would not allow me to accept this man as 
my husband.” 

12 


266 


kate vaughan’s despair. 


“ You speak in riddles; please explain yourself,’ 
said Mr. Vaughan, impatiently. 

The high-spirited girl went to a book-case which 
stood in the corner of the room, and took a small vol- 
ume from it. Opening it at a particular place she 
said : 

“ Father, Joseph Smith, the founder of Mormon 
ism, is my authority for what I have just said to you. 
This book is entitled ‘ The Doctrine and Government 
of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-Day 
Saints.’ Let me read to you what he says on page 
330 regarding marriage : ‘ According to the custom of 
all civilized nations, marriage is regulated by laws 
and ceremonies ; therefore we believe that all mar- 
riages in this Church of Christ of Latter-Day Saints 
should be solemnized in a public meeting, or feast 
prepared for the purpose ; and that that solemniza- 
tion should be performed by a presiding high priest, 
bishop, elder, or priest, not even prohibiting those 
persons who are desirous to get married from being 
married by any other authority. We believe that it is 
not right to prohibit members of this Church marry- 
ing out of the Church, if it is their determination to 
do so ; but such persons will be considered weak in 
the faith of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Mar- 
riage should be celebrated with prayer and thanksgiv- 
ing ; and at the solemnization, the persons to be mar- 
ried, standing together, the man on the right and the 


rate vadohan’s despair. 


267 


woman on the left, shall be addressed by the person 
officiating as he shall be directed by the Holy Spirit, 
and if there be no legal objections he shall say, calling 
each by name : “You both mutually agree to be each 
other’s companion, husband and wife, observing the 
legal rights belonging to this condition ; that is, keep- 
ing yourselves wholly for each other and from all oth- 
ers during your lives.” And when they shall have 
answered “ Yes,” he shall pronounce them husband and 
wife, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and by 
virtue of the laws of the country and the authority 
vested in him. Then he shall say: “May God add his 
blessings, and help you to fulfil your covenants from 
henceforth and forever, Amen.” * 

“ I should think that Joseph Smith, in this chapter, 
had spoken plainly enough to enable him to be under- 
stood by every one. Please tell me where President 
Young has received his doctrine of plural marriage?” 

“From a revelation given unto him, my child.” 

“ Father, I do not believe that God ever revealed 
unto man such a vile command.” 

“ Oh, Daughter of Zion, have faith, for it is said : 
‘Let the unbelieving hold their lips, for the day of 
wrath shall come upon them as a whirlwind ; and all 
flesh shall know I am God. And he that seeketh signs 
shall see signs, but not unto salvation.’ And again it 
is said : ‘ He that believeth and is baptized shall be 

saved.’ ” 


268 


kate vaughan’s despaib. 


“Father, such quotations are not to the point. I 
believe in God, but not in this false prophet, who has 
changed the original Faith of Mormon, and who has 
introduced into this Church the doctrine of Polygamy. 
Listen ; can anything be plainer than this ?” And she 
read again a passage from the chapter on “ Marriage.” 

“ ‘ Inasmuch as this Church of Christ has been re- 
proached with the crime of fornication, and polygamy, 
we declare that we believe that one man should have 
one wife, and one woman but one husband, except in 
case of death, when either is at liberty to marry 
again.’ 

“I believe in Joseph Smith’s ideas regarding mar- 
riage. He was a sincere Christian, and one who did 
not grudge to give up his life for his belief. It is 
heresy to disobey the laws which he has laid down.” 

“ We will not argue, child, for we cannot agree.” 

“ So it appears ; and I am sacrificed with your con- 
sent, as thousands of other women have been sacri- 
ficed in Utah.” 

“ Daughter, you must learn to submit.” 

“ Because I am a helpless girl,” answered Kate, 
bitterly. 

They were interrupted by the sound of Daisy’s 
voice. The poor child had fallen, and she was crying 
bitterly, and calling : 

“ Mamma ! Mamma !” 

“ Poor little thing !” exclaimed Kate, going at once 


kate vaughan’s despair. c 2G9 

to the child’s assistance. When she had left the room, 
Norris turned to Mr. Vaughan and said : 

“ Leave her to me. She will learn to love me in 
time, and to be content with her lot.” 

“ I hope so.” 

“ They all do.” 

“ Kate, I fear, is unlike most of our young girls. 
She has too many Gentile notions.” 

At this moment Kate returned to the room, with 
Daisy in her arms. “Go at once !” she said, angrily, 
“and tell President Young to release this child’s 
mother. In my excitement I had forgotten poor 
Emma. Think of what she must be suffering ! She 
may be driven mad before sundown.” 

“ Emma has behaved very badly.” 

“ Shame on you, Richard Norris, to say so. She 
nobly besought our tyrant to spare me !” 

“ My dear Kate, you might have had a worse fate 
than to be sealed unto me.” 

“ Impossible ! I ask you, as a man of some honor, 
to go and obtain Emma’s release.” 

“ I dare not.” 

“ You are a coward,” declared Kate, with flashing 
eyes, “ to allow your wife to suffer alone in that place. 
Go, sir, and make an attempt, at least, in her behalf.” 

“ The Prophet will not listen to me, Kate ; but as it 
is your command, and as it is our wedding day, I will 
obey you.” 


270 


rate vaughan’s despair. 


“ And do not return without Emma.’* 

“ Not if I can obtain her release. Brother Vaughan, 
will you aid me in fulfilling my wife’s wishes ?” 

Kate shuddered as the word “ wife” passed the lips 
of the man whom she so intensely loathed ; and when 
the door closed upon her tormentors she clasped Daisy 
to her heart and moaned and sobbed in agony. 

“ Don’t cry, Aunt Kate,” pleaded Daisy, trying to 
kiss away the tears which rained down over the 
wretched girl’s face. 

“ Oh, baby, baby, what shall I do ?” 

“What is the matter, Aunt Kate?” 

“ Daisy, you would not understand if I told you.” 

“Where is mamma? I want my mamma.” 

“ I have sent Papa Norris for her, Daisy ; she will 
ioon be here I trust.” 

“How soon, Aunt Kate?” 

“ In an hour, I hope.” 

“ Oh, I want to see my mamma. I haven’t had any 
kisses from her to-day.” 

“ Mamma will give you all the kisses you want, lit- 
tle one, when she returns home.” 

“ Aunt Kate, I am awful hungry, arn’t you !” 

“ No, child ; but you ought to have had your din- 
ner long ago. Why did Ann not give it to you ?” 

“She said mamma had gone out, and she didn’t 
know what to cook, so I couldn’t have any dinner. 
Wasn’t that too bad. Aunt Kate ?” 


KATE VAUGHAN S DESPAIR. 


271 


“Stupid woman !” exclaimed Kate. “Come with 
me and I will see that you get something to eat.” 

“I was afraid to go to the kitchen, Aunt Kate, 
Ann is so cross. She said she wished that she had 
never seen this place.” 

“ Ann is not the only one who wishes herself back 
in Old England,” murmured Kate, as she made her 
way to the kitchen with Daisy. 

She saw that the child had her dinner and then 
asked Ann if she would take Daisy and go to her 
father’s house with a letter. 

“ Certainly, ma’am ; but where is the mistress ?” 

“She has 'been detained, but will be home to- 
night..” 

“ Poor lady !” sighed Ann. She feels badly, I 
know, for this was the first time she ever forgot to 
to give me my orders.” 

“ I will go and write my letter. Send Daisy to me 
when she has eaten her dinner.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Despair had taken possession of Kate Vaughan, 
and when she found herself alone, she set herself to 
discover whatr there was left for her to do. 

“Oh, my God,” she exclaimed, in her agony, 
“must I submit to this dishonor? If I go to Camp 
Douglass my father will compel me to return here. 
No ; so far as I can see, there is but one dreadful al- 
ternative !” 


272 


kate vaughan’s despair. 


After a little she grew calmer, and sat down to 
write her note to her father ; and when Daisy entered 
the room she she took the child in her arms and kissed 
her and gazed at her long and affectionately. 

“ What is the matter, Aunt Kate ? Why do you 
look at me in that way ?” 

“ Nothing that you can understand, darling. Will 
you give mamma some kisses for me to-night ?” 

“ Oh, yes, a thousand !” answered the child, affec- 
tionately, throwing her arms about Kate’s neck and 
kissing her a great many times. 

Kate dressed the child and took her down stairs. 
When she gave the letter to Ann, she said : 

“You need not be in a hurry to return ; take Daisy 
for a walk.” 

“ Shall I wait for an answer, ma’am ?” 

“ There will not be any reply. Here is some money 
for your trouble.” 

“ Thank you, ma’am ; and may the master make 
you as good a husband as he has made the mistress.” 

Kate kissed the child again. 

“ Good-by, darling, good-by,” she said. 

She lingered a moment at the door, gazing at 
Daisy’s retreating form ; then with a weary sigh, she 
turned hastily and closed the door. 

Kate was alone in the house — alone with her 
anguish. 


kate yaughan’s despair. 


273 


Was this the bridal day to which she had so joy- 
fully looked forward ? 

She had not wept since she had nerved herself to 
obey her father’s commands, but as she thought of her 
absent lover, the man to whom she had given her 
whole heart, the tears rained in torrents over her 
white face, and clasping her hands nervously together, 
she cried : 

“ How can I give him up when I love him so 
much ! Oh, merciful Heaven ! I shall never see his 
dear face again ; never hear his voice or feel the warm 
clasp of his hand. My noble, brave Charles ! When 
he hears that I have become a plural wife, he will 
detest me.” 

Kate flung herself on the stairs, sobbing passion- 
ately. After the first paroxysm of her grief had 
passed, she became calmer ; gradually her thoughts 
took a definite form. 

She acknowledged to herself that her love for 
Charles King was the noble, unselfish love that a 
woman only feels once in a life-time, and that death 
itself could not have as much bitternees for her as she 
now suffered. She had drained the cup of her degra- 
dation almost to its dregs. 

She had been true to her absent lover in thought, 
word and deed. 

Alas, her constancy had been of no avail and the 
man to whom she had plighted her troth would live to 


17 


274 


kate vaughan’s despair. 


despise her when he learned that she had become the 
plural wife of Richard Norris. 

Almost driven insane by her thoughts, she sprang 
to her feet, flung up her arms and exclaimed : 

“ I can die !” 

She turned her thoughts upon the means. Kate 
knew she had not a moment to lose ; and, with the 
light of her noble self-sacrifice shining in her eyes, and 
a new-born womanly expression on her face, she 
walked into the back parlor and sat down at the 
writing table. 

The first fearful burst of her grief was over — but 
for a moment the scalding tears blinded her, as she 
essayed to write a farewell letter to Charles King, 
which would seem to him a cry of despair wrung 
from a breaking heart. 

“Dearest Charles: — 

“When you receive this letter, I shall be no more. 
My heart is broken for I was forced against my will 
to become Richard Norris’ plural wife. 

“ I am still your promised wife and I shall go out 
of the world pure and faithful to my promise to you. 

“ Oh, my love ! My heart aches with bitter pain. 
Death itself cannot be harder than bidding you fare- 
well. 

“ Remember me sometimes ; and may your life be 
a happy, contented one. I cannot walk by your side, 


rate vaughan’s despair. 


275 


dear, but trust when time has made me a sad memory 
that you will find some noble woman to brighten your 
days and be to you what I had hoped to be. 

“ My darling, farewell. 

“Yours faithfully, 

“ Kate.” 

“ N. B. — Write to Emma Norris, she will tell you all, 
as my time is precious, and I have not a moment to 
spare.” 

Kate folded the above and put it in an envelope. 
She then severed a long golden curl from her head 
and enclosed it with her engagement ring and sealed 
the envelope, which she addressed to Lieutenant King. 

She then wrote to Emma. As soon as she had fin- 
ished writing to her friend, she took both of the let- 
ters in her hand and ran hastily up stairs. 

The poor girl went first to the apartment occupied 
by the Danite. She opened the drawers, closets and 
cupboards, searching in every corner and in every 
place that she could think of. She could not find 
what she so eagerly sought. 

Clasping her hands wildly together, the half dis- 
tracted woman muttered : 

“There’s no revolver there, and yet I felt sure I 
should find one. What, oh ! what can I do ? No one, 
I fancy, will sell me poison ; there would be too many 
poor wretches who would use it if the law allowed it 


276 


KATE VAUOIIAn’s DESPAIR. 


to be sold. Oh, that I could die without committing 
this sin ! Oh, that God himself would show me the 
way !” 

By this time Kate had wandered into the little 
room that was occupied by Daisy. The moment she 
entered the room the child’s swing, which hung 
between two doors, attracted her notice. Norris had 
hung this swing for Daisy’s use when it was too 
stormy for her to be out of doors. It was hung from 
two strong iron hooks, which were driven into the 
wood-work of the door. This was to the poor, half- 
distracted girl like an answer to the prayer that had 
been on her lips when she entered the chamber. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Kate tried the 
strength of the rope and hooks with her weight. 
They seemed to be strong enough for her purpose. 
Unfastening the rope, which she shortened, she then 
arranged a noose, which she worked back and forth 
until it gave her entire satisfaction. She next took off 
the two rings which she was accustomed to wear and 
taking Emma’s letter from her pocket she placed the 
rings in the envelope. 

Placing the letters on the bureau, Kate knelt down 
and remained in prayer for nearly half an hour. When 
she rose from her knees, she calmly placed the noose 
about her neck and stepped upon a chair, saying 
aloud : “May God have mercy upon my soul.” She 
pushed the chair from her and hung suspended about 


KATE Y AUG HAN’S DESPAIR. 


277 


a foot from the floor. As the rope tightened around 
her neck she commenced to struggle, for hanging — 
unless it is scientifically performed — is a terrible death 
Kate flung out her arms wildly ; her eyes started from 
their sockets and she gave gasp after gasp ; but 
presently her arms relapsed, her head rested on her 
right shoulder, and then all was still. The poor girl 
had been driven to suicide by the injustice which had 
been meted out to her by those who should have loved 
and protected her. 


278 


TOO LATE. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

TOO LATE. 

Norris returned about five o’clock, hoping to find 
Kate a little reconciled to her fate. He was surprised 
to see no one in the house, and was about to go in 
search of Kate, when Ann and Daisy returned. 

“ Where is Aunt Kate ?” he asked of the child. 

“Up stairs, Papa Norris. Where is my Mamma ?” 

“ Oh, she will soon be home, now, dear.” 

It was nearly sundown now, and he looked for 
her return every moment. He took the child upon 
his knee, kissed her tenderly, for he really felt a 
strong affection for her, and he spent fully an hour 
amusing her, and watching the while for her mother’s 
return with great anxiety. In his heart he was indig- 
nant with the Prophet for the course he had taken 
with Emma, but it was useless to interfere. The 
clock struck six, and still no signs of either of the 
women for whom he was on the lookout. By this 
time his anxiety was so great that he would have 
borne gladly the upbraidings of both the women 
rather than the suspense which he was now under- 
going. 











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HE STARTED BACK IN AFFRIGHT. P. 279. 




too LATE. 


279 


At last Daisy fell asleep in his arms, and he took 
her up stairs to place her on her own little bed. The 
moment he entered the outer room, a strange sensa- 
tion of horror crept over him, which, however, he 
resisted, and attempted to pass into Daisy’s room. 
But the lifeless body of Kate Vaughan barred the 
doorway. He started back in affright, very nearly 
dropping the sleeping child from his arms when her 
form met his eye. He, however, mechanically retained 
his hold of his burden, and, laying Daisy hastily on 
the bed, he struck a match, for the room was almost 
dark. Hardened villain though he was, Richard 
Norris shuddered from head to foot when the light 
revealed the ghastly sight before him. 

The unmistakable palor of death upon her face, 
the wide-open glassy eyes, the fallen jaw, and the 
open mouth, with tongue protruding, and above all 
the look of agony that was stamped upon that once 
beautiful face, told him the dreadful truth at once ; 
and yet, after the first few moments, when he had 
gazed at her as though fascinated by the awful spec- 
tacle, he hoped against hope. He refused to believe 
the plain evidence of his senses, and felt for the pulse 
and listened for a faint beating of the heart of the 
poor girl. When he was convinced that she was 
indeed dead, he fell on his knees by Daisy s bed and 
buried his face to shut out the horrible sight : 

“ Good God, I must have gone mad !” 


he ex- 


280 


TOO LATE. 


claimed, as s*hudder after shudder shook his strong 
frame. 

His agony awoke the child from her light slumber, 
and she, seeing his attitude, asked him if he was say- 
ing his prayers. Norris could not answer the child, 
he was too completely unnerved to speak. The child 
raised herself in bed, and as she did so her eyes 
lighted upon the dead girl in the doorway. 

“ What is the matter with Aunt Kate ? Look, 
Papa, what is she doing with my swing ? Aunt Kate 
what is the matter ?” called the child, in a frightened 
tone. The dead stillness in the room, and the silence 
of the two people to whom she appealed, filled the lit- 
tle one with a vague alarm. 

This innocent speech of the child to ears that no 
earthly sound could reach, sent such a thrill of horror 
through Norris, he snatched Daisy from the bed and 
fled with her to the floor below. He at once sent 
Ann for the doctor and for Mr. Vaughan. Entering 
the parlor with Daisy, he set himself to try and form 
some plan of action when the two men should arrive. 
Daisy was eager to render some assistance to Aunt 
Kate, and he was obliged to invent all sorts of excuses 
to the child for his seeming unkindness in leaving 
Aunt Kate alone. 

“1 don’t care, Papa Norris, I think you are a real 
mean man not to let me go up stairs and help Aunt 


TOO LATE* 


281 


Kate,” cried the affectionate child at last, out of all 
patience with her papa. 

Dr. Grey and Mr. Vaughan arrived very socii, and 
at about the same time, Daisy was at once given into 
Ann’s charge. 

Norris rose to his feet when the gentlemen entered 
the parlor, and said in a voice which he vainly 
endeavored to keep firm and clear : 

“ Mr. Vaughan, I deemed it my duty to send foi 
you ; your daughter has suddenly become alarmingly 
ill.” 

“ Let me see the patient at once,” interrupted the 
doctor, “ do not waste time here. I can do something 
to alleviate her suffering.” 

“ Doctor, come with me,” said Norris. Turning to 
Mr. Vaughan he said : “ I think you had better 

remain here until after Dr. Grey has seen Kate.” 

“ I think I had better go up stairs, and know the 
worst at once. I will remain in the hall until Dr. 
Grey has seen my daughter.” 

As the gentlemen went up stairs Emma entered 
the hall-door, and Daisy, who had been watching for 
her mother, sprang into her arms, exclaiming : 

“ It is my Mamma, my own Mamma !” 

“ My darling !” cried the poor m ther, as she 
clasped her child to her heart and wept tears of joy, 
for she realized fully now that she wanted to live for 
her child. 


TOO LATE. 


282 

Suddenly a loud cry, uttered in tones of the most 
intense horror, and which chilled the blood in the 
veins of the hearers, rang thf ough the house : 

“I have killed my child ! I have killed my child !” 
cried the wretched father, as he fell insensible at his 
daughter’s feet. 

Emma, alarmed by this dreadful cry, ran hastily up 
the stairs. She met Ann, who had gone by the back 
staircase, coming out of the bedroom. 

She was wringing her hands, and the utmost terror 
was depicted upon her countenance. The poor 
woman’s agitation and fright were so great that she 
was quite unable to make any reply to Emma’s 
inquiry as to the cause of the disturbance, and what it 
was that had so alarmed her. Ann, could only shake 
her head and point with a shaking hand to the room 
she had just left. The sight of Daisy, who had fol- 
lowed her mother up stairs and was about to enter the 
chamber with her, restored the power of speech to the 
frightened servant. 

Catching hold of Daisy, she exclaimed : 

“ For God’s sake, don’t let that child go in there !” 

Emma was now thoroughly frightened, but she 
managed to say to Daisy, with some calmness : 

“ Go down stairs with Ann, dear.” 

“ I want to see Aunt Kate, Mamma.*' 

“By-and-by, Daisy. Go down now and get your 


TOO LATE. 


283 


tea. Ann will take good care of you until I come to 
take you to bed.” 

Ann took the child with her and hastened down 
stairs, while Emma passed into the chamber. Here 
she saw her friend stretched at full length upon the 
bed, and believing her to be ill she went at once to her 
side. 

“ What is it, Kate dear — are you so very ill ?” she 
asked, anxiously, taking Kate’s hand in hers. When 
she felt the chill of that icy touch, she was terror- 
stricken ; and a close look at the face of her friend 
told her that the Angel of Death had spread his wings 
over the persecuted Mormon girl, and had claimed her 
for his own. 

“ Kate, Kate,” she called, frantically ; “ speak to me, 
my darling. Have they killed you because they could 
not break you to their customs ? Oh, she is really 
dead ? No, it cannot be so ; she was in perfect health 
this morning. Oh, my poor wronged, murdered dar- 
ling !” And Emma threw herself upon her knees beside 
her friend and tried in vain to rouse her to conscious- 
ness. 

Dr. Grey, who had been attending the wretched 
man whose fanaticism had driven his daughter to the 
act of self-destruction, now entered the chamber from 
the adjoining bedroom. Seeing Emma weeping over 
the body of her friend, he said : 

“ Sister Norris, this is a very dreadful affair ; I 


284 


TOO LA.TE. 


must go at once to the Prophet for instructions. I am 
sure he will not approve of a- Coroner’s inquest. When 
Brother Toot’s daughter shot herself last year, there 
was an inquest, and it caused no end of scandal. 
Every Gentile paper in the country had something to 
say about it, and the Prophet was exceedingly indig- 
nant.” 

Emma listened to the physician’s rather heartless 
speech in astonishment, at first ; this was the first 
intimation she had had of the cause of Kate’s suicide. 
“ Please give me all the facts, Doctor,” she said, calmly. 

“ My dear lady,” answered the doctor, cautiously, 
“ I only know that when I entered this room with your 
husband, I saw Kate Vaughan hanging there between 
the doors,” pointing to the door that led into the 
adjoining bedroom. 

“Was she alive, Doctor, when you got here ?” 

“No, she had evidently been dead for some hours. 
Your husband sent for me as soon as he discovered 
that she had committed suicide.” 

“ May I not close her eyes, Doctor ?” 

“Yes, you can do that; and bind a handkerchief 
around her jaws. That is all that you can do until the 
undertaker arrives ; your husband has gone for one 
now, I believe. I will call again this evening and 
Dr. Grey bowed himself out of the room. 

Emma ^as, of course, unutterably shocked by this 
terrible climax to a day that had been full of shocking 


TOO LATE. 


285 


events. She loved Kate, and had the poor girl died 
under any ordinary circumstances, she would have 
mourned for her as for a dearly-loved sister. But in 
view of all that had been, and all that was to be, she 
could not help a feeling of almost joy, that her friend 
was already where “ the wicked cease from troubling 
and the weary are at rest.” She felt no doubt that 
God had pardoned the rash act, or that she, who was 
so true and dutiful a daughter, and so pure-minded a 
woman, was now among the saints and angels of God. 

On going to the drawer for a handkerchief Emma 
discovered the letter which Kate had placed there for 
her. She opened the envelope hastily and the two 
rings dropped to the floor. It was as though her 
friend had spoken to her, and revealed the whole 
scene of her dreary death. “ Poor, poor girl,” she 
murmured, as she took up the rings and pressed them 
to her lips. The letter read as follows : 

“ Dear Emma : — I have tried to reason with my 
father, and to show him that ny self-respect forbids 
my becoming the wife of a man who has already a 
living wife ; but he refused to see the matter in the 
light that I did. 1 cannot permit the degradation, 
both for you and myself which this vile marriage will 
cause. I thank you for your effort in my behalf ; it 
was nobly done, but you were powerless to aid me. I 
regret it only on account of the suffering which I know 


286 


TOO LATE. 


it has caused you this long and weary day. I begged 
my father and your husband to go to Brigham Young 
to intercede for your release ; but I fear the attempt 
was a futile one. 

“My dear friend, I am standing on the brink of 
eternity, so let my prayer come to you as from one 
who has passed to the other side. I implore you to 
leave Utah as soon as possible. Do this for Daisy’s 
sake, as well as your own. There is nothing but 
misery and disgrace possible for you in this degraded 
community, and it is your duty to save the little one 
from the dreadful fate which has overtaken you and 
me — that of becoming a victim to Mormon lust and 
fanaticism. 

“The enclosed rings I wish you to keep. Give one 
to Daisy when she is old enough to wear it, and with 
it my love. 

“ I am going to commit a crime for which it appears 
to me that I am, in a measure, not accountable. It 
seems to me, that there is no other way of escape for 
me from the shame of being forced to become the hand- 
maid of your husband. It is the choice between two 
crimes, and I choose the least. 

“May God direct and protect you, my dear, dear 
friend, and dear little Daisy. 

“ With a great deal of love, I am 

“Yours, affectionately, 

“ Kate Vaughan/* 


TOO LATE. 


287 


“ N. B. — Please send Lieutenant King the letter you 
find addressed to him, also write to him and inform 
him of the events which have transpired since his 
regiment left Utah. ” 

“ Poor murdered girl ! She was a martyr ; God ‘ 
will grant her a martyr’s crown,” murmured Emma, as 
she kissed the letter and put it carefully in her bosom. 
She then closed the eyes of her friend and tied the 
handkerchief around her face, saying as she performed 
these last acts of kindness: “May God compensate 
you for the cruelty of men !” She then sat down 
quietly by her friend’s lifeless body, to think of all 
that had happened and to try there, in the presence of 
the dead, to form some plan of action whereby she 
could carry into effect the advice which her letter had 
contained. When Kate had urged her, before her 
marriage, to leave Utah, she had refused to take her 
warning. Now that Kate was dead, she would lose 
no time in doing as she had wished. In fact, Emma 
almost felt that she was communing with her dead 
friend as she sat by her side. Her meditations were 
interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Vaughan, who 
was assisted by Norris, as he was yet too weak to 
walk without aid. 

At the sight of those two men bending, as it .seemed 
to Emma, with hypocritical sorrow over the form of 
their victim, the gentler feelings which had held their 


288 


TOO LATE. 


sway in her heart vanished, and those of the avenger 
took their place. In a moment she was seized by an 
irresistible desire to avenge Kate’s death, and to make 
the cowardly father suffer for his shaie in his daugh- 
ter’s suicide. Starting to her feet, she came swiftly 
over to the side of the miserable old man, her counte- 
nance transformed by the spirit of contemptuous 
indignation which flashed from her eyes. 

“ Behold your victim !” she said, with a mocking 
bow and a wave of the hand towards the bed. 

“ Woman, have pity upon me !” 

“Yes, such pity as you had for her ! Did you spare 
her when she plead with you, only this very morning ? 
She besought your protection and you drove her to 
take refuge in death. You were deaf to her prayer 
because you desired only to please the Prophet ; you 
sacrificed your child. You should have known that 
she was too pure minded to submit to such an indignity. 
It is you, sir, and your tool here” — with a glance of 
contempt at Norris — “ who will have her death to 
answer for in the last Great Day.” 

The wretched father groaned aloud as the excited 
woman related to him these bitter facts, the truth of 
which he fully realized. 

“ Emma, Emma, how can you be so cruel ?” inter- 
rupted her husband. “ Do you not see that Brother 
Vaughan is suffering intensely ? Do not add to his suf- 
fering by your reproaches !” 


TOO LATE. 


2811 

“ His conscience will reproach him until the hour of 
his own death,” answered Emma. “ His fanatical 
faith in the doctrines of his church will not keep the 
dark shadow of remorse from his pillow ; he, as well 
as you, I fancy, will remember this day’s work while 
you both live. Kate’s face will haunt you, sleeping or 
waking, for you two men drove her to this awful 
death.” 

“ It is true, it is true ! I killed my child !” 

“ Emma, I command you to conduct yourself in a 
more Christian-like manner !” exclaimed Norris. 

“ Perhaps you think, sir, that my imprisoment this 
morning in the iron chair of atonement, has subdued 
me, and that you will now find me a pliant tool in your 
hand. Allow me to assure that you are entirely 
mistaken. You can kill, but neither you nor your 
wicked master, Brigham Young, shall conquer me. 
Why do you not bring him here that he may view his 
victim ?” she said, with flashing eyes. 

“Come with me, my friend,” said Norris, leading 
the old man from the room. 

Norris thought it best to leave his wife alone ; it 
was not wise, under the circumstances, to try her too 
far. He was unnerved by the awful events of the day, 
and he was quiet ready to make allowances for all that 
she might say. Though he was so familiar with crime. 
Kate’s tragic death had thoroughly shaken him ; and 
it is not wholly impossible that he did feel some 


18 


•390 


TOO LATE. 


remorse for having driven Kate to seek death in 
preference to dishonor. 

He led Mr. Vaughan down stairs, for the conscience- 
stricken man was as helpless as a child, and made him 
lie down ; but it was useless to speak to him of sleep ; 
Emma’s words rang in his ears. He soon started up 
and, grasping Norris by the arm, exclaimed : 

“ Your wife is right ; I drove my poor girl to her 
death. I should have realized that she was different 
from the majority of our Mormon girls. She had 
always insisted upon taking Joseph Smith’s view of 
marriage, and I could not convince her that the Lord 
had inspired Brigham Young to show us the truth of 
the doctrine of polygamy. And it is a hard belief for 
our women, Brother Norris; sometimes it tries our 
soul and our hearts to be obliged to take more than 
one wife, in obedience to to the Prophet’s commands. 
Oh, my God, thou knowest that I would give all I 
possess to have my poor girl restored to life 

“ I beg of you, Brother Vaughan, not to take Emma’s 
rash speeches so much to heart. She loved Kate, and 
she is terribly excited by her dreadful death.” 

“ Your wife told me the truth, I say ; and I shall 
never feel like the same man again,” persisted the old 
man. “ Kate was my only daughter, Brother Norris.” 
And the man fairly broke down and sobbed like a 
child. His punishment had commenced, and he was 
destined to suffer the pangs of remorse until his death. 


TOO LATE. 


291 


Norris succeeded, after much persuasion, in induc- 
ing the poor old man to lie down, and before long had 
the satisfaction of seeing him in the sound slumber 
which followed naturally upon the terrible excitement 
of the day. Norris then left the house in quest of an 
undertaker, as he had been detained when he first 
started on his errand. 

Emma remained beside her dead friend until her 
husband returned. When he entered the room, 
she arose to leave, but Richard detained her, say- 
ing : 

“Emma, you must take your leave of Kate now, 
before I bring the undertaker up stairs. As soon as 
he has finished his duties, and Brother Vaughan has 
taken leave of his daughter, I have orders to see that 
the coffin is closed at once.” 

“ Who has dared to give you such orders ?” 

“ The Prophet. I met Dr. Grey on my way home, 
and he brought me a written order to that effect.” 

“When do you bury Kate?” 

“ To-night, Emma.” 

“ So the poor girl is to be buried like a dog, in 
order that the Mormon community shall not be 
shocked.” 

“ It will prevent scandal.” 

“Say rather that Brigham Young does not wish 
the women of Utah to learn of this sad case. He does 
not wish them to reflect upon the slavery of their 


202 


TOO LATE. 


position. My poor friend was too pure to become 
contaminated by the people with whom her lot was 
cast, therefore she preferred death to dishonor.” 

“ I will leave you alone with Kate’s remains until 
the undertaker arrives," said Norris, quietly, as he 
left the room. 

“ Go, go," said Emma. When she was alone she 
kissed the dear face many times, and then knelt in 
prayer until her husband’s footstep sounded in the 
hall below. Then she rose, gave her friend one fare- 
well kiss and left the room. 

Emma went to the library, where she thought it 
possible that she might be left free for a time to in- 
dulge in her grief ; but Norris, hearing the sound of 
her foot-fall, as she paced back and forth the long 
room, came to her at once after he had finished giving 
his directions to the undertakers. 

“ My poor girl," he said, coming to her side and 
endeavoring by his air of solicitude to conciliate his 
wife, “you will make yourself ill if you allow your 
grief to overcome you in this way. You must remem- 
ber Daisy, if you dc not think of yourself in the mat- 
ter. I sympathize with you deeply," and he attempted 
to take his wife in his arms. 

“ Do not touch me !’’ cried Emma, as she motioned 
him away from her, her color rising in his pres- 
ence. 


TOO LATE. 


293 


“ Why do you repulse me, Emma ? Can we not be 
friends ?” 

“ There is no longer any chance for even friendship 
between us. I do not forgive you for your share in 
the events of to-day. In the first place you should 
have been too manly to break your promise to me, 
even at the Prophet’s express command, or to permit 
those two men to force Kate to accept a fate which 
she herself had told you was worse than death in her 
eyes. In my opinion, Richard Norris — as you call 
yourself — the blame of that poor girl’s death rests pri- 
marily with you. I tell you this plainly ; and so long 
as I live I can neither forgive nor forget it. Besides 
all this, you merit only my contempt for your course 
to-day in the Endowment House. You showed your- 
self a coward in standing tamely by while I was 
imprisoned in that iron chair by order of your most 
excellent Prophet. You never uttered even a protest 
against it.” 

“ Because I knew that it would only make matters 
worse for me to do so. Why did you follow us to the 
Endowment House ?” 

“ It was the last chance for me to save Kate. Her 
appearance made me fear that some terrible event 
would take place if the marriage were allowed to go 
on.” 

“The Prophet seemed to you harsh ; but I assure 
you that your punishment was light in comparison 


294 : 


TOO LATE. 


with that of some who have before defied his will. He 
thought that you needed a lesson.” 

“ And you agreed with him. I have a contempt 
for you both. How dared he commit such an out 
rage ?” 

“ Brigham Young dares to do anything in Salt 
Lake City.” 

“ So it appears. He can with impunity drive an 
innocent girl to commit suicide, and then bury her 
quietly before her body is scarcely cold. He can so 
debase and degrade an hitherto honest man, as to 
cause him to violate the most sacred obligations, and 
to commit readily the most terrible crimes. I have 
suffered to-day more than I had supposed it would be 
possible for any woman to suffer. It has been almost 
more than I could bear ; but I feel that I am justly 
punished for my weak compliance with your wishes, 
either in marrying you, or in joining your contempti- 
ble church.” 

“ Emma, I warn you to be more prudent, or you 
will ruin me and yourself as well. Whatever you 
think, you must not express your opinions so openly ; 
the walls have ears here.” 

“ What do I care ? I am certainly not afraid of 
death. I am an American ; I am used to liberty of 
speech. I am not one of those miserable foreign 
women whom you have imported, who have known 
degradation in their own land, and are only too thank- 


TOO LATE. 


29c 


ful to get a shelter and enough to eat, and who are 
ignorant and superstitious enough to believe any- 
thing that the Mormon elders tell them.” 

“ I quite agree with you, Emma, that American 
women do not make good Mormons.” 

“ Nor would your foreigners if they had received a 
common-school education.” 

“Do not let us enter upon an argument, Emma. 
We have trouble enough already.” 

“ I have no wish \o quarrel with you, Richard ; I 
am sorry for you as well as myself. My life for the 
past year has been all a mistake.” 

“What do you propose to do?” 

“ To leave Utah ; to leave you. I cannot live with 
you any longer. As I told you before, you have 
trampled upon my self-respect, outraged my best and 
holiest feelings, and destroyed the friendship that I 
had had for you.” 

“ You wish to return to Ernest Van Tine ?” 

“ I would give ten years of my life to be permitted 
to see him for a moment, to hear his dear voice again. 
Oh, if I could only ask and receive his forgiveness for 
my weak desertion, I would ask for nothing else !” 

“Take care, Emma,” exclaimed Norris, harshly. 

“ I am not afraid of you ; I defy you.” 

“ Again I say, have a care. I love you, Emma, and 
I am not a man who is accustomed to be thwarted. 
Do not rouse the demon within me ; if you do I will 


296 


TOO LATE. 


not answer for the consequences. You shall never 
return to Van Tine ; that I tell you distinctly. 1 
would kill you before I would allow you to return to 
his arms.” 

“ Ah ! You call yourself a gentleman, and a brave 
man ; and yet you threaten a helpless woman. Allow 
me to tell you that if I live I will try to find Ernest, 
and ask his forgiveness, and restore to him his child. 
If there was any divorce necessary, I should have had 
one from you.” 

“ In order to return to your lover.” 

“Take care what you say, Richard; it would be as 
well not to reproach me with a misfortune for which 
you alone are responsible ; I see that clearly now. 
You discovered that I was Ernest Van Tine’s wife by 
accident, and you made the most of that fact. I have 
never been able to determine in my own mind why 
you did not leave me there in peace. I was a happy 
wife and mother, for Ernest was a devoted husband.” 

“ Beware !” hissed the now infuriated man. 

Emma did not heed her husband’s exclamation, 
nor the gathering cloud upon his brow. Her thoughts 
were busy with the happy past. 

“ The few years that I spent with him,” she con- 
tinued, half musingly, “ taught me that he had a great 
nature and a loving heart. He lived to make others 
happy, and he succeeded. Without seeming religious 
he lived a pure Christian life. If ever there was a 


TOO LATE. 


207 


happy home, that home was ours. I might have 
known that such happiness could not last. You came 
and snatched me from the man who, according to laws 
both human and divine, was my husband. When the 
war closed, had you chosen to play the part of an 
honest man, you would have returned to me.” 

“ I could not ; but you know that I wrote to you.” 

“ There is no good to be obtained for either of us 
by going over all this again. You know me well 
enough to believe that I should not have married your 
friend had there been the shadow of a doubt in my 
mind about your death.” 

“You should have waited longer,” said Norris, 
doggedly, knowing well that his position was a weak 
one. 

“ I did my duty, even to your memory. I was alone 
in the world, and Ernest loved me.” 

“You did not love him, I suppose; you married 
him for a home ?” said the exasperated man, sneer- 
ingly. 

“ No ; I will not deceive you. I loved him far 
better than I ever loved you. Oh, man, you com- 
mitted a sin when you ruthlessly parted two loving 
hearts !” 

“ Take that !” exclaimed the man. blinded by his 
passion, dealing his wife a heavy blow, which felled 
her to the floor. Then the coward left the apartment 
without so much as a look at his victim. He would 
13 * 


298 


TOO LATE. 


far rather see his wife dead, than to know that she 
was happy again with the man she loved and whom he 
so thoroughly hated. He fully realized that there was 
no one in the world who could ever occupy her place in 
his heart ; he had found that out by experience. He had 
admired the beautiful Californian, but he had admired 
her fortune more, and he had coolly sacrificed her life 
in order to obtain possession of it. But the playmate 
of his youth was as dear to him as it was possible for 
any woman to be, though his love was necessarily of 
the basest sort ; and the knowledge which her words 
forced upon him — that he had lost her love by his own 
foolish act — and her fearless avowal of her love for his 
rival drove him to the verge of madness. 

Ann had partially heard the words which passed in 
the library between husband and wife, and when she 
heard the words which accompanied the blow, and the 
sound of her mistress’ fall, she made her way to the 
library at once, taking Daisy with her. 

“Mamma, Mamma !” cried Daisy, trying to help 
her mother to rise. 

Ann gave her mistress all the necessary assistance, 
inquiring anxiously if she was hurt. 

“ Thanks, Ann ; not seriously, I fancy but she 
sank immediately upon the nearest chair. 

“ Come with me to the third story front room, 
ma’am, and let me put you and little Daisy to bed. I 
will bring you up a nice cup of tea ; you have not 


TOO LATE. 


299 


( 


eaten a mouthful to-day. You must not get ill for 
Daisy’s sake, ma’am.” 

“Yes, Ann, you are quite right. I do feel wretch- 
edly ill, and I will try to sleep.” 

“ May 1 sleep with you, Mamma ?” 

“Yes, darling ; you are all'that mamma has to love 
or to comfort her now,” answered the unhappy woman, 
taking Daisy in her arms and pressing her to her ach- 
ing heart, covering her sweet little face with kisses 
and shedding over her bitter tears, which seemed to 
relieve her over-burdened heart. 


300 


THE MIDNIGHT FUNEltAI* 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE MIDNIGHT FUNERAL 

The first thing that met her eyes when Ann opened 
the library door, was the undertaker and his assistant, 
bearing the coffin with its precious burden. Emma 
shrank back into the room. 

“ Oh, Ann, I wish that I could sleep with her ; I am 
tired of this hard and cruel life !” 

“ Don’t speak like that, ma’am. You have trouble 
enough, but remember the little one, and bear up.” 

“ Yes, yes, Ann, you are right ; she needs me, and 
I must live for her sake.” 

“ Madam, in what room shall I place the coffin ?** 
asked the undertaker, respectfully. 

“ In here,” answered Emma, briefly. 

“ Come up stairs with me, Mamma ; Daisy is 
sleepy.” 

“ Let Ann put you to bed, dear ; mamma will 
come up presently,” said Emma, giving the tired child 
a loving kiss. She then went into the library and 
prepared a place for the coffin to rest ; this done, she 
went out into the garden through a side hall door. 
At the farther end of the flower garden Emma knew 


TIIE MIDNIGHT FUNERAL. 


301 


there were late flowers still in bloom, although it was 
now the latter part of October. She hastily gathered 
all that her hands would hold and returned to the 
house. Carrying her bright burden to a small room 
that opened off the hall, which was used for a sewing- 
room, and where she and Kate had spent more than 
one happy afternoon, Emma arranged it in two large 
flat bouquets. In this room the two women had, a few 
weeks ago, put some large pots of choice rose-bushes, 
hoping to keep them through the coming winter. 
These were full of blossoms, which Emma cut and 
proceeded with her store of fragrance to the library. 
The undertakers had gone, and Emma was free to 
indulge her grief openly, while she placed her offering 
of flowers, and took what she knew must be the last 
farewell in this world of the gentle girl whose beauty 
and grace of mind and heart had so won her love, and 
whose fate in life Providence had so strangely linked 
with her own. 

Emma put a bunch of flowers in the folded hands 
and laid the other upon the plain white dress in which 
they had dressed her for the grave. The roses she 
scattered over her. “ Poor Kate,” sighed Emma, while 
her tears fell fast upon the face of her friend. She 
took a long, last look at the loved features and kissed 
her friend again and again. “ My darling,” she whis- 
pered, “ all I am sure is forgiven you ; and I — oh, 
how I envy you !” 


302 


THE MIDNIGHT FUNERAL. 


At the sound of approaching footsteps Emma left 
the room and went up stairs to her child. 

While Emma had been engaged in her labor of 
love, Dr. Grey had returned to the house, and had 
gone with Norris to the room where Mr. Vaughan still 
lay sleeping. 

“ It seems a pity to awaken him to a sense of his 
sorrow,” remarked Dr. Grey. 

“Yes, Doctor, it is a pity. I think the Prophet is 
wrong to insist upon this hurried burial.” 

“ It is always better to avoid scandal, you know,” 
answered the doctor, as he proceeded to rouse the 
sleeping man. As gently as possible he told of the 
hasty funeral which the Prophet had ordered. 

“Poor, poor Kate!” sighed the father; “I do not 
understand why the Prophet desires to have her 
buried to-night.” 

“ He. says that we shall avoid all unnecessary scan- 
dal by so doing.” 

“ Perhaps so, Doctor,” said the old man, shaking 
his head doubtfully, with a long, weary sigh. He, 
however, prepared to follow his friends, but found 
himself obliged to lean on the doctor’s arm when he 
attempted to walk. 

The three men grouped themselves around the cof- 
fin, while the father took his last look of all that was 
left of the old happy life in England. Kate was the 
last link to that life, and not until this moment did the 


THE MIDNIGHT FUNERAL 


303 


poor old man know how dear that life had been to 
him. There she was before him, in the peaceful sleep 
of death ; the look of agony and suffering had nearly 
all gone from he face ; she looked like one whose dreams 
are slightly troubled. Her beautiful hair had been 
put away under the muslin cap, such as the generality 
of Mormon women are buried in, and the flowers 
which Emma had scattered over her relieved the 
plainness of her shroud. Norris’ sin-hardened heart 
was touched when he recognized the womanly pity of 
his wife, who had put aside her own sorrow to pay 
this tribute of love to her friend. 

The sorrow-stricken father gazed sadly and long- 
ingly upon the face of his child. All his old love came 
back, and he kissed her face and hands as tenderly as 
her mother could have done. 

“ My dear, dear daughter!” he said, “ I did not think 
to part with you so soon.” Then, turning to Dr. Grey: 
“ I should have sent Kate back to dear old England ; 
she longed to return to her native land. She was a 
Gentile at heart, and I wish now that I had kept my 
promise to her mother ; but the Prophet told me that 
it was not a lawful promise, and that such a one was 
better broken than kept.” 

“I am sure, my dear sir, that you acted for the 
best.” 

“ I thought I did, Doctor, but this is the result.” 

A suddden movement of the undertakers, who 


304 THE MIDNIGHT FUNERAL. 

were waiting to perform their last duties, attracted 
Mr. Vaughan’s attention, and he groaned in his sor- 
row : 

“Oh, Lord, Thy hand is heavy on Thy servant !” 

“ My friends,” said the really kind-hearted and sin- 
cere doctor, “ the Lord has been pleased to afflict our 
brother by this sudden death of his daughter, and his 
burden is heavy. But let us all find comfort in believing 
that she has received forgiveness from that Judge 
whose mercy is as boundless as the ocean. God’s 
ways are not as our ways ; without doubt He will not 
hold our sister responsible for her last rash act. Few 
persons, I believe, take their own lives when they are 
perfectly sane. My friends, let us pray and Dr. 
Grey knelt, the others following his example. 

He repeated the “ Our Father,” and then he prayed 
fervently that the Lord would comfort the bereaved 
friends, and especially the sorrowing father. 

Mr. Vaughan rose from his knees somewhat com- 
forted, and more resigned than he had been before 
the prayer. He tried hard to restrain his emotion, 
for he was a proud, reserved man, and one who shrunk 
from showing any feeling in public ; but the sud- 
denness of this shock had brought to the surface all 
the hidden love and feeling for his daughter that 
could not be repressed. He kissed her cold lips again 
and again, and then he allowed the doctor to lead him 
from the room. The remembrance of his refusal — 


THE MIDNIGHT FUNERAL. 


305 


only that morning— to listen to Kate’s prayer that he 
would spare her, may have rested heavily upon his 
heart, but, if so, he comforted himself with the though! 
that he was only fulfilling the commands of the 
Prophet, who could not err. After all, the poor fanatic 
was more to be pitied than blamed. The responsibility 
of that day’s work rested chiefly upon other shoulders 
— shoulders which had borne many such burdens. He, 
who in his arrogance drove this young and innocent 
girl to seek refuge in her Maker’s presence, has him- 
self since gone to that other world, where we must all 
give an account for the deeds done in the body. 

The undertaker fastened down the coffin lid as soon 
as the gentlemen had left the library, and then he and 
his assistant carried it down the steps, over which 
their burden had so unwillingly passed that very 
morning, and placed it in the hearse which was wait- 
ing at the door. A single carriage followed it to the 
grave, and a single sincere mourner was all that was 
allowed to accompany the poor girl to her last resting- 
place. Emma, who would gladly have gone to the 
end of the earth to pay respect to the memory of her 
friend, was not permitted to leave the house. 

Dr. Grey and Norris accompanied Mr. Vaughan 
in his dreary midnight ride. When the carriage 
stopped before the door of the farm-house, some three 
miles beyond the city limits, they all felt relieved. 

They at once alighted and followed the coffin, in 


306 


THE MIDNIGHT FUNERAL. 


mournful procession, towards what was evidently a 
family burial place. It was a small plot, neatly 
enclosed by a plain wooden fence, with a few head- 
stones gleaming whitely in the moonlight among the 
dark trees. 

“ I am going to bury your daughter, Mr. Vaughan,” 
said the physician, “in my own lot. Here lies the 
bodies of two of my wives and several of my children. 
This farm is mine, and is managed and cared for by 
one of my wives, with her two sons. So you see, my 
dear friend, that all will be safe, and her last resting- 
place well cared for.” 

“ I should have preferred to have her put by the 
side of her mother ; though you are very kind, Dr 
Grey,” answered the old man. 

The undertakers had been busily digging the 
grave, and they now lowered the coffin to its place. 
The voice of the devout doctor broke the silence : 

“ Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. 
Such is the end of the bodies which in life gives us so 
much care, and cause us so much suffering. Were it 
not for the blessed promises of the resurrection, and 
of our redemption in the next life, we should sorrow 
as those without hope ; for the grave is the end of all 
earthly hopes and ambitions.” 

These words of comfort seemed to fail in their 
object, which was to give solace to the heart-broken 
father. His remorse and agony of mind was some- 


THE MIDNIGHT FUNERAL. 


307 


thing terrible to see when the sods fell upon his 
child’s coffin, and he remained there long after the 
grave had been filled. 

The scene was strangely weired. The newly-made 
grave, the sombre forms of the three men standing 
like statues beside it, the empty hearse and its waiting 
attendants in the background, and over all the 
streaming moonlight. The voice of the wind, .sighing 
sadly through the tall trees, was all that disturbed the 
stillness ; otherwise there reigned the silence of the 
first creation. They stood thus for a few moments, 
hushed and awed by the spirit of the place, and then 
led the sorrowful and misguided father to the carriage, 
leaving the grave to nature’s kindly care. 

On the way back to the city, Mr. Vaughan fainted, 
and it was with great difficulty that Dr. Grey revived 
him. When they reached his house they carried him 
up stairs and put him to bed at once. 

The doctor remained with him all night, and tried 
to the best of his ability to comfort and quiet the 
excited man. It was useless, however, and when Dr. 
Grey left him to go home for a little rest, he felt sure 
that Mr. Vaughan would be dangerously ill. 

The next morning when the physician called, he 
was shocked to find his patient unable to recognize 
him. Mrs. Vaughan followed the doctor anxiously 
from her husband’s bedside, as she was alarmed at his 
strange appearance. 


308 THE MIDNIGHT FUNERAL. 

“Dr. Grey, do you think Mr. Vaughan seriously 
ill ?” she asked with quivering lips. 

“My dear lady, I am sorry to grieve you, but 1 
always think it best to tell the truth. Your husband 
is paralyzed, I can ameliorate his condition, but he 
may not live out the month.” 

Alice Vaughan looked at Dr. Grey with a face 
from which every atom of color had fled, as she 
moaned out : “ My punishment is greater than I can 

bear.” The unhappy woman swayed and would have 
fallen if the physician had not caught her in his arms 
as she swooned. 


emma’s resolve. 


309 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

emma’s resolve. 

Let us now return to the scene of the tragedy. 
Oh, how heavily and wearily dragged the long hours 
of that sleepless night for poor Emma. She lay upon 
her bed, but sleep refused to visit her eyes. Grief for 
her friend’s terrible fate would ordinarily have been 

m 

sufficient cause for sleeplessness ; but now her friend’s 
last warning rang ceaselessly through her mind. Yes, 
she must take Daisy away as soon as possible ; of that 
there could be no doubt. But how to accomplish it, 
and where to go, were questions which she revolved 
in her mind the livelong night. 

Above all other things, Emma would have been 
glad to return to Ernest Van Tine, but she believed 
fully in the legality of her divorce from him, and 
necessarily in the legality of her marriage with Norris, 
and she was far too pure in mind and upright in pur- 
pose to consider such a course for an instant. How- 
ever, she fully determined not to live with Norris any 
longer ; the remembrance of the cruel blow he had 
given her rankled in her heart ; she was too high- 
spirited to submit tamely to such treatment. She was 


310 


emma’s resolve. 


determined to sacrifice her feelings, and return Daisy 
to her father, and to bury herself in some of the great 
cities and fight her own battle of life. In her present 
weak state of mind and body this was all Emma could 
decide upon ; she would develop the plan, she told 
herself, when she was stronger. 

Towards daylight she fell into a troubled slumber, 
which was disturbed by hideous visions, the result of 
utter exhaustion. The mental excitement of the pre- 
vious day and the anxiety of the night, together with 
the physical suffering that she had undergone in the 
chair of atonement, proved to be too severe a strain 
upon Mrs. Norris, and the next day she was too ill to 
rise from her bed. 

Norris felt too much ashamed, and he regretted 
his share in the Vaughan tragedy ; therefore, he did 
not make any attempt to see his wife when she was 
taken ill ; but he sent frequent messages to her and 
made anxious inquiries of Ann regarding her illness. 
The honest English woman gave him very short and 
rather unsatisfactory replies ; she could not forgive 
him for the cowardly blow he had given her mistress. 

When Ann came to Utah she was a childless 
widow. Soon after she was settled there, she was 
sealed to an English Mormon. Death again deprived 
her of her companion, and then Ann declared that she 
had “done her duty,” and that no earthly power 
would tempt her to marry again. She kept her word, 


Emma's resolve. 


311 


and went into service in the family of a Mormon 
bishop. She lived with them some years, until they 
moved to a farm some miles from the town. Not car- 
ing for country life, Ann had sought another place 
and so had fallen into her present quarters. The 
woman had been thoroughly convinced of the truth 
of the Mormon faith when she came to Salt Lake 
City, but her experience there had served to thor- 
oughly disgust her with the people, the country and 
the religion, and she was now diligently saving her 
money in the hope of a speedy return to dear old 
England. 

Ann had taken a great fancy to her present mis- 
tress — who, in fact, had the faculty of making friends 
among all classes — and she was anxious to do all that 
she could to aid her, and ready to defend her from 
the dangers which it was too evident threatened the 
lonely woman in Utah. 

On the evening of the second day of his wife’s ill- 
ness, Norris decided to go to Nevada and spend a few 
weeks in looking into the affairs of their mines there. 
The morning’s mail had brought letters which con- 
tained news of importance, and Norris felt that it was 
best for him to go and investigate the matter. He 
hoped the storm which threatened his domestic hori- 
zon would have cleared away before his return. 

The next morning at breakfast Norris sent Daisy 


312 


emma’s resolve. 


to her mother to say that he was going away, and that 
if possible he wanted to see her before leaving. 

“ Where are you going, Papa Norris ?” questioned 
the child. “ Take me with you ?” 

“ I wish that I could, Daisy, but you must not 
leave Mamma alone when she is ill, you know. I’ll 
take you some day, when you are a big girl.” 

“ I’m getting a big girl,” declared Daisy, with an 
air of satisfaction. 

“ Yes, you are certainly growing, my dear.” 

“ Bring me something pretty when you come 
home, Papa Norris ?” 

“Indeed I will, little woman.” 

“You think I am a woman, Papa Norris ? I think 
I’m a little girl.” 

“ A dear little girl, Daisy,” replied Norris, taking 
the child tenderly in his arms and kissing her fondly. 
“ Now run up stairs, dear, and take my message to 
Mamma.” 

The child bounded away upon her errand, and, 
bursting into her mother’s room, exclaimed as soon as 
she could find breath : 

“ Mamma, Papa Norris is going away, and he 
wants to come up and see you. Can he come ?” 

“ Yes, darling.” 

The child flew away again to find Papa Norris, 
and, after faithfully delivering her mother’s reply, 
made her way to the kitchen to impart the news of 


emma’s resolve. 


313 


the intended journey to Ann ; for Daisy was an invet- 
erate little gossip. 

Norris made his way immediately to the sick room, 
and he was thoroughly shocked to see how much his 
wife had changed during the past few days. His 
heart smote him, and he took her hand and kissed her 
tenderly. 

“ I am sorry, dear, to see you looking so very ill. 
Do you feel any better to-day ?" 

“ Yes, I think that I do feel a little stronger to-day 
than I did yesterday, Richard." 

“ I am glad to hear you say so, Emma. I will ask 
Dr. Grey to call every day during my absence ; I 
should not think of going away unless I could leave 
you in his care." 

“ Where are you going ?" 

“To Nevada. There are a number of matters con- 
nected with the mines which require my personal and 
immediate attention." 

“ How long shall you remain ?" 

“ I suppose about two weeks ; certainly as long as 
that, I know. You will want money for household 
and other expenses while I am away, and I think this 
will be sufficient," said Richard, handing Emma a roll 
of bank-notes; “but in case you should need more, you 
will find a check already signed in the drawer of the 
desk in the library. Emma, I was a brute the 
14 


314 


EMMA*S RESOLVE. 

other night, and I am sorry for it. Can you forgive 
me ?” 

“ I will try, Richard,” replied Emma, sadly. 

“Believe me, Emma, you are the only woman 
that I love, or ever could love. I was so madly jeal- 
ous the other night that I really did not know what I 
did. Kiss me good-by, dear.” 

Emma did as he desired ; but her kiss was hardly 
a satisfactory return for the passionate one which she 
received. When he left the room, the tears stood in 
his eyes, and in spite of himself, he sighed wearily 
when he was alone in the library. He could not 
shake off a premonition of coming evil, though he 
tried to convince himself that it was caused by the 
sad events of the past few weeks. It is not an uncom- 
mon thing for such forebodings to force themselves 
upon us all, and it is impossible to say whence they 
come. In fact, the explanation which we offer to our- 
selves is generally the farthest from the real one. 
At any rate, when Richard Norris left Salt Lake 
City, he took with him to the mines of Nevada a sad 
heart. Indeed, he almost decided after he had gone 
one day’s journey, that it was better for him to return 
and postpone his trip until Emma had fully recovered 
from the shock which her nervous system had re- 
ceived. But after due consideration of the matter, he 
determined, in spite of his anxiety, to go on, for his 


EMMA’S RESOLVE. 


315 


common sense told him that his absence would be a 
relief to his wife at the present time. 

In the meantime Emma had gained rapidly in 
health and strength, and two days after her husband’s 
departure, she was able to sit up long enough to eat, 
and rather enjoyed the dainty dinner that Ann had 
prepared with much thought and no little skill. From 
that time forth she gained strength rapidly. 

During the afternoon of the second day after her 
husband’s departure, Mrs. Norris received cards, and 
calls in abundance. 

Her last caller was a fair type of a contented Mor- 
mon matron, for even in Utah are to be found 
women who endeavor to make the best of their 
unhappy lot. 

Mrs. Stevens’ happy disposition made her popular 
wherever she went. This lively little lady was a favorite 
of Ann’s, who, thinking to enliven the dullness of her 
mistress’ convalescence, at once ushered the caller to 
Emma’s chamber. 

Mrs. Stevens was a particular friend of the 
Vaughan’s, and of course knew something of Kate’s 
tragic death. 

The two women went through the general form of 
greeting, kisses not excepted — for women in Utah are 
the same in such matters as the women of all the rest 
of the world — and then Mrs. Stevens said : 


316 


EMMA S I2ES0LVE. 


“I am sorry to find you so ill, dear ; but Ann tells 
me that you consider yourself quite convalescent ?” 

“Yes, I have been really ill, but I am fast regaining 
my health.” 

“ Such a thing is a terrible shock to a person ; 
especially to a friend such as you were to poor Kate.’’ 

“ Certainly,” answered Emma, the tears springing 
at once to her eyes. “ Where did you learn the par- 
ticulars, Mrs Stevens?” 

“At Sister Vaughan’s, dear; of course you know 
that I am very intimate there. Dr. Grey was obliged 
to tell her the cause of her husband’s illness.” 

“Is he ill ?” 

“ He is paralyzed.” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Stevens, what a terrible thing ! When 
did it occur ?” 

“ The morning after Kate’s funeral.” 

“ Poor man ! poor man ! I am sorry for him,” said 
Emma, thinking of the sorrow that he had shown after 
Kate’s death, and, woman-like, forgetting his trans- 
gressions in sympathy for his sufferings. 

“Yes, so am I. Dr. Grey says he may have 
another stroke at any moment.” 

“ Poor Kate !” said Emma, softly ; “ how earnestly 
you pleaded with your father to spare you, and he 
refused. Alas ! I fear he sealed his own earthly fate,” 
sighed Emma. 

“Yes, Kate could never reconcile herself to accept 


EMMA S RESOLVE. 


317 


the life of a Mormon wife ; such a pity ! Our religion 
is, of course, sometimes at variance with the dictates 
of the natural heart ; it is a burden, it sometimes seems, 
that the Lord has laid upon us; we must bear it for His 
sake, and to His glory.” 

“ I cannot believe as you do.” 

“ And yet it is the teaching of our divinely-inspired 
church.” 

“ Not as I understand that teaching, Mrs. Stevens ; 
for Joseph Smith, in his book of ‘ Doctrine and Cov- 
enant/ says that one man should have but one wife 
and one woman but one husband.” 

“Yes, but Joseph Smith taught us that God would 
speak to us by the mouth of inspired prophets ; such a 
one is Brigham Young.” 

“ I cannot believe that God requires such a sacrifice. 
In most families, where they obeyed this law, the first 
wife is either changed into a fury or she becomes a 
broken-hearted woman.” 

“Well, Mrs. Norris, my husband did not want to 
take a plural wife ; his sufferings were great when he 
did so, but I have tried to make his burden as light as 
possible.” 

“ Because you are a noble, unselfish woman ; you 
have done what you believed to be your duty, regard- 
less of the cost to yourself.” 

“ And you will do the same, my dear, when the 
time comes. I have often heard women say that the} 


318 


emma’s resolve. 


would not consent to their husbands taking plural 
wives, but for one reason or another they submitted 
when their turn came.” 

“ I shall never submit to it, Mrs. Stevens.” 

“Yes, you will ; and you had better make up your 
mind to take up your cross cheerfully. The Prophet 
will insist, and when he insists Brother Norris will 
obey, for he is a good Mormon, and a firm believer in 
the leadership of Brigham Young.” 

The arrival of Dr. Grey interrupted the conversa- 
tion, which was a painful one to Emma. The two 
women at once made inquiries about Mr. Vaughan. 

“ Poor man,” said the doctor, “ I fear that his days 
of usefulness are numbered. He may live a few 
weeks, but he is sure to have another attack, and 
when he does he cannot live. He is already speech- 
less.” 

“ What a terrible affliction !” said Mrs. Stevens, 
while Emma’s face showed plainly the sorrow that 
was in her heart. She could not forget that he was 
Kate’s father. 

“You may well say so, Mrs. Stevens. We had 
always thought him a somewhat cold and unfeeling 
man ; but there was warmth in his heart after all. 
Kate really was his favorite child. She was a beauti- 
ful girl, too, and her fate was a sad one. I do not 
myself believe in forcing our girls to marry against 
their will.” 


emma’s resolve. 


310 


“Dr. Grey, you are right; marriage without love 
is a mortal sin !” said the invalid, positively. 

“Well, we should not be worrying you with these 
sad stories. You are to think only of getting your 
health and strength. Your husband left you in my 
charge, and for the sake of my professional reputa- 
tion, you must try and do justice to my treatment, 
Mrs. Norris.” 

“ Oh, Doctor ! I am trying to get well,” said 
Emma. 

“ That is the way to talk. There is nothing more 
serious the matter with you than a little nervous ex- 
haustion, and a few days of rest and nourishing diet 
will bring you out all right. I shall see you to-mor- 
row, Mrs. Norris. Mrs. Stevens, I am going your way, 
and I shall be very glad of the opportunity of taking 
you along with me in my carriage.” 

“ Thanks, Doctor ; I am delighted to accept your 
invitation. It is late, and I should have gone before. 
The children will wonder what has become of me.” 
Then followed more kisses, and the usual promises to 
call, and the good woman took her departure with Dr. 
Grey. 

Emma had made up her mind to do her part 
towards fulfilling Dr. Grey’s prognostications about 
her recovery, so she called Ann, and in half an hour 
was snugly tucked away in her comfortable bed. 
Before she slept, however, she offered a prayer to God 


emma’s resolve. 


320 

that He would help her to carry out the determination, 
which had now fully taken possession of her, to escape 
from this dreadful community with little Daisy. She 
had no desire for her to share Kate’s fate. Thus plan- 
ning for her child’s safety, the weary woman fell into 
the most refreshing sleep that had visited her eyelids 
since Kate’s coffin had been carried from her home to 
rest in her lonely grave. 


THE MISSING LINKS. 


32 1 


'CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE MISSING LINKS. 

After Ernest Van Tine had resigned wife and child 
to his old comrade, he found that unless he were ready 
t o become a perfectly useless member of society, or to 
be drfven to actual madness, he must leave the old 
place, and among new scenes and in new work, 
strive, in a measure, to obliterate the past. He had 
been so truly blessed in his married life that he did not 
wish to blot it out entirely ; but he determined to oc- 
cupy his time and his thoughts with other matters in 
order to be able to live without continually brooding 
over the past. 

In a short time after his home was broken up, he 
disposed of his business, locked up the charming little 
log-cabin — which now seemed to him like a body from 
which the soul had fled — and left Nevada for Gan 
Francisco. 

He went to work at his trade there. Life was, of 
course, altogether dismal. He had not heard, nor 
could he hope to hear, a word from Emma since that 
dreadful day when he had rushed off, leaving her in 
his rival's care. Was she happy and satisfied ? he 


20 


322 


THE MISSING LINK8. 


wondered sometimes. Hardly that, he thought ; for 
he knew that Emma had loved him ; and he felt per- 
fectly certain that he was not forgotten. And yet he 
wanted her to be happy ; he desired her welfare above 
all other things, unless it was the happiness and well- 
being of his child. 

The more he reflected upon the matter, the more 
he felt convinced that he had been too hasty in thus 
giving up his child, allowing her to go among strangers, 
to become estranged, to grow up and regard his rival 
as her father. 

He reproached himself severely for the course he 
had pursued in the madness of his despair. He now 
felt that he should have retained both his wife and 
child until the law had decided that his marriage had 
been illegally contracted. 

He argued that Norris’ desertion had made Emma 
a widow in the eye of the law. 

Ernest Van Tine sighed wearily as he thought of 
the past, and he toiled incessantly, striving to forget 
his vanished happiness. 

One quiet Sabbath morning, after his return from 
church, Ernest took up a San Francisco paper, and in 
glancing over it his eye lighted upon an account of 
the discovery of a vein of rich ore in a mine in which 
he held a large number of shares. The property had 
not been considered valuable, and he had bought 
these shares of a friend, who was in need of a few 


THE MISSING LINKS. 


323 


hundred dollars of ready money. In fact, he had 
never regarded the thing in the light of an investment, 
and would have thought himself fortunate to realize 
the amount originally paid for the said shares. 

Although Ernest doubted the reliability of the 
report, he thought he had better look into the matter, 
and the following week he started for Nevada. When 
he reached Virginia City he found the miners were 
excited over the discovery which they had made, and 
he found the reports fully verified. 

As soon as he had attended to the necessary busi- 
ness arrangements of the mine, Ernest proceeded at 
once to the house of his old friend and neighbor, Mrs. 
Wood. 

The good woman was delighted to see him, and 
welcomed him in true Western fashion. Van Tine 
could scarcely do justice to her hospitality, or listen to 
the neighborly gossip which she poured into his ears 
so freely. The fact was that the good dame did not 
know how to introduce the subject which was upper- 
most in her thoughts, without opening afresh wound? 
which she knew must still bleed. So she took refuge 
in a lively dish of gossip. 

Van Tine understood the kind heart of his enter- 
tainer, and at last put the question which he had come 
all this way to ask. 

“ Have you heard any news of Emma since she 
left ?”. he asked, abruptly. 


324 


THE MISSING LINKS. 


Mrs. Wood at once showed him the telegram which 
she had received from Emma, and the answer which 
had been sent. 

Ernest read the dispatch over and over again. His 
mind went back to the day of their separation, and he 
saw clearly that he had not acted for the best. At 
last he roused himself from his reverie. “ I am afraid 
I did wrong, Mrs. Wood, in leaving here so suddenly. 
I should have waited until I could have received some 
news of Emma.” 

“ Mr. Van Tine, I am afraid you acted rashly,” said 
Mrs. Wood. Going to a bureau which stood in the 
room, she took from it a letter which she gave to 
Ernest. “This letter will tell you all that- transpired 
after your wife left this place up to the time of her 
marriage in the Mormon church. Read it, and }Ou 
will see that she had suffered.” 

Ei nest fairly devoured the contents of the letter. 
When he had finished it he groaned aloud. 

“God forgive me for my rashness. I thought 
Emma loved Richard, and so I gave her up. I have 
sinned ; oh, my God, I have sinned ! She certainly 
was my wife in God’s sight ; I am not sure that she 
was not legally mine, too, Mrs. Wood. May I have this 
letter?” 

“ Certainly, Mr. Van Tine ; I kept it for you in 
case I should ever see you again.” 


THE MISSING LINKS. 


325 


Ernest Van Tine considered it a very fortunate 
thing that chance had placed that letter within reach 

It was of far more value to him than the fortune 
which had brought him to Nevada. He knew that he 
had the best love of the woman whom he loved. If 
that must suffice for this world, he could bear it ; she 
would be his in the future life, in which he fully 
believed. She was married to Richard, and he would 
never disturb their relations. When he thought over 
the matter more calmly he knew that he had failed in 
his duty as a father. He could not tell how he should 
rectify his mistake ; but it was a source of constant 
worry to this upright man and loving husband and 
father, whose nature was pure and noble. When he 
thought about his daughter’s future he determined 
that he would not leave her always among the in- 
fluences which he so much dreaded, but that he would 
become a rich man for her sake. 

After some consideration it was decided to work 
the mine to its full extent, and the stockholders asked 
Van Tine to become their general manager. Their 
offer was accepted, and under his judicious oversight 
everything prospered, and riches poured in upon the 
delighted owners. One of these gentlemen — Professor 
Hobart he was called by his friends — who was deeply 
interested in the mine, being the largest shareholder — 
had the reputation of being a very clever judge of 
mankind. It was at his suggestion that the company 


326 


THE MISSING LINKS. 


had invited Van Tine to become their manager ; it 
was not long before these two men became fast friends. 
When the new shaft was about to be sunk, some dis- 
tance east of the old one, Professor Hobart came down 
to stay for a time in Virginia City, and took up his 
quarters in the same house with Ernest Van Tine. 

One evening the two friends were smoking a cigar 
together, and talking as usual about the working of 
the mine 

“ Did you have any further trouble with that work- 
man this morning, Van Tine ?” asked the Professor. 

“ No, I paid him his wages and discharged him. I 
told him plainly that I would not have a man in my 
employ who was in a continual condition of intoxi- 
cation.” 

# “ You acted wisely; that man would have made 
trouble for you. He has a villainous countenance. 
Did he give you any trouble ?” 

“No, he took his discharge quietly enough. Do 
you believe that human faces are to a certain extent 
the reflection of their true character?” 

“Certainly I do ; and not only in that, but in mind- 
reading also. If ever mortal possessed the gift of 
clairvoyance, I do. Don’t smile so skeptically ; I 
never practiced it professionally.” 

“ Why do you speak of your gift as of the past ? 
Explain yourself.” 

“ Because it is a long time since I have tried my 


THE MISSING LINKS. 


327 


powers in that direction. I had an adventure, some 
time ago, which entirely sickened me of ever attempt- 
ing such a thing again. It’s not an altogether agree- 
able story, but I can vouch for the truth of it.” 

“ Pray relate your adventure ; I am exactly in the 
mood for a story, no matter how exciting so Professor 
Hobart sacrificed his cigar to the vindication of the 
doctrine of Mismer. 

“In the course of a scientific tour through Califor- 
nia, some years since, I was detained for some weeks 
in Sacramento City. Material and instruments neces- 
sary for the completion of my survey in that State had 
not been forwarded, through some misunderstanding, 
and I was at a dead stand-still in my work. The time 
passed rather heavily, and for the sake of amusement 
I exhibited to the guests at the hotel my powers of 
mesmerism. One of these impromptu seances was by 
chance witnessed by a young Mexican, also a guest of 
the house. After the evening’s entertainment was 
concluded, this young fellow, whose name I afterwards 
found to be Ramirez, followed me to the smoking- 
room, and asked permission to question me as to my 
powers, a specimen of which he had just witnessed. I 
told him plainly that I could put ninety-nine out of a 
hundred of the people with whom I came in contact 
into a state where I could entirely control the mind 
and sometimes even the body also. 

“ He begged of me to return with him to San Fran- 


328 


THE MISSING LINKS. 


cisco immediately and try my powers upon his brother- 
in-law, whom he strongly suspected of having insti- 
gated the assassination of his wife, who was Ramirez’s 
sister. 

“I tried hard to persuade him to relinquish the 
idea, assuring him that any evidence he should obtain 
in this way, while it would perhaps convince him, and 
so serve to make him more wretched than ever, would 
not be accepted in any court of law in the country. 

“He quite understood this, and promised that he 
would not act, or attempt to act, upon the knowledge 
he obtained from me. He only wanted to see what his 
brother-in-law would do and say while he was in my 
hands. He pleaded so hard, and the poor fellow 
seemed so anxious and miserable, that I finally yielded 
to his entreaties and went with him to San Francisco. 
He took me to his brother-in-law’s house, introduced 
me as a personal friend, and during an after-dinner 
chat I found an opportunity to put him in a sound 
mesmeric trance.” 

“ Do you mean that you really discovered him to be 
the criminal ?” 

“ Proved it beyond a doubt ; and what he told us 
while he was in the mesmeric state only confirmed the 
estimate I made of his character from reading his face 
during the first hour of our interview. It was no 
proof that Ramirez could use, however, though, as 
after events proved, the discovery of the criminal was 


THE MISSING LINKS. 


329 


due to events which sprung out of that affair. I have 
always regretted it, however, and shall to my dying 
day.” 

“ Why ?” 

“ Because it ended in his shooting poor Ramirez, 
who was too hot-headed to keep his promises made to 
me before we left Sacramento. Then and there he 
tackled the villain, who coolly shot the poor fellow on 
the spot.’ 

“ Was he punished ?” 

“ No, he escaped. Poor Ramirez fell into my arms 
when he was wounded, and before I could alarm the 
servants he had taken leg bail. I felt confident that 
he was too thorough a scoundrel not to make good his 
escape ; but I did my best to prevent it and got 
arrested myself for my pains. I have ever since been 
on the lookout for Richard Norris, in the hope of hav- 
ing him brought to judgment.” 

“ What do you say ?” cried Van Tine, in some 
excitement, rising from his chair to grasp his friend 
by his arm. “ My friend, for Heaven’s sake repeat his 
name again.” 

“ Norris ; Richard Norris. Perhaps you saw an 
account cf the affair in the papers.” 

Van Tine made no reply, but walked the floor 
some minutes before he could trust himself to speak. 
Presently he said : 

“ Perhaps it may be only a similarity of names ; 


330 


THE MISSING LINKS. 


but unless I am very much mistaken that man is alone 
responsible for the wretchedness of my life.” 

“What in the world do you mean ?” asked the Pro- 
fessor, whose turn it was to be mystified. 

Ernest gave his friend a concise account of the 
events of his life bearing upon the matter in question, 
and finished by handing him the letter which had 
been given him by Mrs. Wood. Professor Hobart 
listened attentively, and when he had read the letter 
he said, promptly : 

“That man must be arrested ; there is enough evi- 
dence against him to hang him three times over. 
Without any doubt he is the same man, though your 
description does not exactly tally with that of my San 
Francisco friend. That, however, does not count in 
evidence ; for it is one of the first lessons of a rogue’s 
life to become able to thoroughly and successfully 
disguise himself. You must set about finding the 
man at once ; it is a duty that you owe to the world as 
well as to yourself and your wife to expose him. It is 
an outrage for any pure minded woman to be forced 
to live with such a scoundrel for an hour.” 

“ I agree with you, Professor Hobart ; but I can 
scarcely collect myself ; pray advise me of the first 
step to be taken in the matter.” 

“It is simple enough. You know the whereabouts 
of the man, and there is evidence enough to cause his 
arrest. Send for Hoyt, he’s the best detective on the 


THE MISSING LINKS. 


331 


Pacific Slope, and he will settle everything in the 
shortest possible time.” 

Before he slept that night Ernest sent a letter to 
Hoyt, asking for his immediate presence in Virginia 
City. He knew that he was only doing his duty, but 
his heart ached at the thought of his beloved Emma, 
whom he had relinquished without a word to the pro- 
tection of such a man. He could hardly realize that 
his old friend and comrade had so degenerated from 
the path of honor, and become a noted criminal. 

Ernest Van Tine believed, from the information 
contained in Emma’s letter, that Professor Hobart was 
not mistaken regarding the identity of Richard Norris 
as the San Francisco assassin. 

In a few days Hoyt made his appearance at the 
mine, received his instructions and left for Salt Lake 
City. 


332 “ THEY SHALL TAKE WHO HAVE THE POWEB.” 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

“they shall take who have the power.” 

When Detective Hoyt returned from Nevada after 
his trip to Utah, he found both of his patrons impa- 
tient to hear his report. 

Ernest Van Tine could not trust himself to ask 
the detective about his loved ones. 

Professor Hobart understood his friend’s eloquent 
silence, and he eagerly asked : “ Did you find Norris ?” 

“ No, sir ; he is not in Salt Lake City. I called at 
his house, which is one of the handsomest in that city. 
The servant told me that her master was away on a 
journey. I then asked for Mrs. Norris, and was told 
that she was too ill to be seen. I was leaving the 
house in a deep study as to my next step in the mat- 
ter, when I met a gentleman coming up the walk, 
whom, I decided in my own mind, was the family phy- 
sician, from his gig at the gate, and the long black 
case which he held in his hand, also from the servant’s 
story of her mistress’ illness, all tended to confirm this 
decision ; so I accosted him without delay. I had 
come a great distance to see Mr. Norris, only to meet 
with the indefinite information that he had ‘ gone on a 


THEY SHALL TAKE WHO HAVE THE POWER.” 333 


long journey/ His wife was ill, and I could not be 
permitted an interview. If, as I fancied, he was the 
physician, and a friend of the family, would he not 
assist me in my dilemma, and give me something 
definite in the way of information ? 

“ The gentleman was only too glad to be of use to 
any friend of ‘ Brother Norris.’ That gentleman had 
gone to Nevada to look after the interests of the Mor- 
mon mines in that part of the country, expecting to 
be absent for two or three weeks. He had already 
been gone about four days. Mrs. Norris was suffer- 
ing from an attack of nervous prostration ; nothing 
serious, but perfect rest was imperative. In a day or 
two, he had no doubt, she would be sufficiently 
recovered to grant me an interview. This is the extent 
of the information I obtained in Utah.” 

“ Very good ; very good,” said Professor Hobart, 
with a satisfied air. That’s all that is necessary for us 
to know in that direction. What should be our next 
move, Hoyt?” 

“ To get an order for the arrest of your man for 
the murder of Pedro Ramirez and start for the mine 
at once ; better strike while the iron’s hot. The man 
may get wind of the thing. Those Mormons are a 
sharp lot, I tell you. I have already communicated 
with the San Francisco authorities, and there’s not a 
shadow of a doubt but that this is the same Richard 
Norris of whom they are in search.” 


334 “they shall take who have the power.” 

“ Do you know just where the mine in question is 
situated ?” asked Van Tine. 

“ About five miles from the Gold Hill claims. I 
have all the information necessary to enable us to find 
him this time.” 

Early the next morning the three men started upon 
their journey. It was a charming October morning. 
The sun had just risen above the grand old peaks, and 
shed his glory over hill and dale, mountain end valley, 
making old Mount Davidson shine like a mass of solid 
gold, that dazzled the eyes of all beholders. The 
balmy air was perfumed with the scent of a thousand 
flowers, and laden with the voices of myriads of 
feathered songsters. Nature can be seen at her best 
and grandest in the wilds of Nevada. 

The three horsemen rode leisurely along, drinking 
in all this beauty. They had not a long journey before 
them, and they found the mine without any double. 
When they reached the camp the miners were at 
breakfast. As the riders drew rein one of these men 
came forward and politely inquired their errand. 

“ Be so good as to inform us where we can find Mr 
Norris?” answered Van Tine. 

“ I am afraid you cannot see him, sir ; he is very 
ill.” 

“ Is it a serious illness ?” 

“ Well, I believe it’s a sudden attack of pneumonia. 
Brother Norris is a very sick man.” 


6 ‘ THEV SHALL TAKE WHO HAVE THE POWER.” 335 

“ Has he had a doctor ?” 

“ Yes ; we sent to Gold Hill for one, and he has 
stayed with Brother Norris since yesterday.” 

“ Will you ask the doctor to step this way for a 
moment ?” interposed the detective. 

“ Certainly, sir,” answered the miner, with a look 
of curiosity *at the new spokesman. 

“ Mark my words, Van Tine, that scoundrel will 
cheat the hangman after all,” said the Professor. 

“So I believe,” was Van Tine’s reply. 

“Pshaw ; he may not be so ill as you imagine,” 
said the detective, coolly. 

At this point in the conversation the miner came 
up to them, accompanied by the doctor, who proved 
to be an old acquaintance of Van Tine’s. 

“ Ah, Dr. Graham, I did not expect to see you 
here.” 

“Nor did I you. What can I do for you, gentle- 
men ?” 

“ We came to see your patient on particular busi- 
ness ; is it possible for us to see him ?” 

“ Mr. Norris is too ill to attend to business, no mat- 
ter how important it may be.” 

“ Is his condition dangerous ?” 

“ In my opinion he has not many hours to live. I 
have told him so, and have sent a dispatch to his wife. 
I expect her here to-day. He has been a little deliri- 
ous at times, and has called continually for his wife, 


336 “they shall take who have the power.” 

and a child, whom he calls ‘ Daisy.’ He fully realizes 
that he cannot live ; he made his will yesterday, after 
my arrival.’ 

“How long has he been ill?” asked Ernest Van 
Tine. 

“ Only two days. He told me that he rode half a 
dozen miles into the country last Monday in that 
pouring rain, and neglected to change his clothing 
after he returned, allowing it to dry upon him. He 
woke during the night feeling an oppression of the 
lungs, which grew worse the following day. He 
thought little of it, though, until yesterday, when the 
difficulty in breathing increased to such an extent that 
he sent over to Gold Hill for me. If I had been called 
sooner, I might have done something, but it’s too late 
now.” 

“ Doctor, perhaps it is the hand of Providence. If 
your patient recovers, he will be a subject for the 
hangman’s skill.” 

“Indeed !” exclaimed the surprised physician. 

“ We have an order for his arrest,” said the detec- 
tive, producing the legal document. 

“ Then I suppose it will be necessary for you to see 
him,” said Dr. Graham. 

“ Undoubtedly,” replied Mr. Hoyt. 

“ Come with me, then ; I will go in with you.” 

They followed the doctor to the log-house a few 
yards distant 


“they shall take who have the power.” 337 

“ I shall not be sorry to see Richard Norris die a 
natural death. It will save a world of trouble, scandal 
and suffering,” said Ernest Van Tine. 

“ So far as you and your wife are concerned that is 
undoubtedly so ; but if ever a man deserved hanging 
he does. He certainly shot Ramirez through the 
heart, I saw him do it ; and there is little doubt he 
procured the assassination of Ramirez’s sister,” replied 
Professor Plobart. 

“ All that you say is no doubt true ; still, I shall 
not be sorry to prevent all publicity for Emma’s sake,” 
remarked Ernest Van Tine. 

Dr. Graham went into the cabin for a moment, 
leaving them outside. In a few moments he reap- 
peared and beckoned them from the doorway. 

The three men entered the low-roofed cabin with a 
feeling of awe, knowing that he whom they had come 
to punish was virtually beyond their reach. A mes- 
senger from the higher tribunal had been there before 
them. The room was furnished only with the barest 
necessities of life, and in one corner, on an iron bed- 
stead, lay the object of their search. 

The two men who had known Norris were 
astonished at the change which had taken place in his 
appearance. He lay back there on the bed, supported 
by pillows, struggling for breath, with nostrils pinched 
and blue, the cold drops of perspiration standing 
already upon his forehead, and eyes that showed the 
21 


338 “ THEY SHALL TAKE WHO HAVE THE POWER.” 

near and certain approach of death. He recognized 
both Van Tine and Professor Hobart, for he muttered 
their names in an indistinct tone. 

Ernest, in spite of himself, felt sad as he looked at 
his old comrade’s dying face, and for the moment he 
forgot how bitterly Richard Norris had wronged him. 
Ernest took the cold and lifeless hand in his and pressed 
it kindly. Norris looked him in the eye for a moment ; 
and he asked in a weak tone of voice : “ Ernest, can you 
ever forgive me ?” 

“ I can and I do forgive you, as I hope to be for- 
given in the last hour. May God in His mercy pardon 
you,” replied Ernest, feelingly. 

“Where is Emma ?” moaned Norris. 

“ She will be here soon,” answered the physician. 
“ I have sent a wagon to the station for her.” 

Ernest whispered to Hoyt not to make known his 
errand. “ Let him die in peace,” he pleaded. 

“As you please, sir ; it is evident that he will have 
to answer for his crimes at another bar ; at any rate, 
he will not live to be tried by human law.” 

“ May God grant him the mercy that he could not 
have received here !” said Ernest, fervently. 

“ Oh, where is she ? where is she ?” murmured the 
dying man. “ I cannot go until I have seen her 
again.” 

The doctor wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, 
and gave him a teaspoonful of brandy, for he was 


“they shall take who have the power.” 339 

evidently sinking fast While they were thus occupied, 
the sound of the approaching wagon reached the ear 
of the sick man, who started up in bed eagerly at the 
sound, and in a moment or two, Emma and Daisy 
came into the cabin. 

“ Oh, Richard,” was all that the poor woman could 
say, as she bent down to kiss the man who had treated 
her so cruelly. 

“ Will you forgive me, Emma ?” 

“ Yes, dear ; and God will forgive you, too.” 

“ I don’t know about that ; I am sorry for all the 
evil that I have done, and it seems to me that if I could 
begin again that I would do better. But I don’t 
know ; I don’t know. May I — kiss — Daisy ?” 

They lifted the child up to him, but she was 
frightened and commenced to cry. Ernest came for- 
ward and took her in his arms. Daisy recognized her 
father, and exclaimed, joyfully : “ Oh, my own dear 
Papa !” 

“ Don’t be afraid, Daisy, give him the kiss he wants, 
dear.” 

The child obeyed at once, and kissed Norris ten- 
derly, saying: 

“I’m sorry you are sick, Papa Norris.” 

Emma had turned when she heard Daisy’s exclama- 
tion. She had noticed no one when she entered the 
cabin ; her whole attention had been directed to the 
bed and its occupant. The shock of the sudden 


34:0 “they shall take who have the power.” 

recognition was great, and at a less critical moment 
might have been too much for her strength. She 
turned pale and staggered when she saw Ernest, and 
it was with great difficulty that she mastered her 
emotion. Norris raised himself on his elbow and 
motioned to Ernest to draw near to him. Giving Daisy 
to Professor Hobart, Ernest went and bent over his 
friend. Taking his hand, Norris placed it in that of 
the woman he had loved and wrong. He tried to 
speak, but the ominous rattle sounded in his throat 
when he attempted to give utterance to his last words ; 
but the two whose hands he had solemnly joined 
understood what he would have said. 

“ He is dying,” whispered the doctor ; and Ernest, 
who was gazing anxiously at the face of the man who 
was battling with death before him, saw that he was 
yet conscious. He put his mouth close to the ear of 
the dying man and said distinctly : 

“ I will do as you wish ; I will marry Emma when 
you are gone.” 

Norris’ face lighted up ; he had heard the words 
and knew that he had done all that there was to be 
done towards earthly reparation ; his countenance 
showed the belief that he felt. 

“ Let us pray,” said Ernest Van Tine ; and they all 
knelt while he offered up a commendatory prayer fo* 
the departing soul. 

When they arose from their knees Professor 



HE IS HYING,” WHISPERED THE DOCTOR. P. 340, 












































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“they shall take who have the power.”’ 341 

Hobart took Daisy out of the room. The sight of the 
awful struggle that was going on before her terrified 
the poor little thin^. A few more gasps, another 
struggle, and the shadow of death settled upon the 
face of the suffering man. He had gone to meet those 
whom he had sent before their time into that other 
world. 

“ He is dead,” said Dr. Graham, solemnly ; “may 
God receive ‘his soul.” 

Ernest led Emma from the room, and saw her pro- 
vided for in another cabin. 

The next day these few people followed all that 
was mortal of the once dashing and unscrupulous 
Danite to the little cemetery at Gold Hill. On his 
coffin plate was engraved his real name, “ Richard 
Melton.” 

This man was a strange combination of strength 
and weakness ; of good and evil. Unfortunately, the 
powers of darkness seemed to control him ; he was 
blown hither and thither, following blindly the first 
impulse that seized him, until he was ripe for any 
deed. He could accept implicitly the selfish and 
sensual teachings of Brigham Young ; or fall readily 
into Matteo’s lawless way of life, and murder without 
hesitation the woman he had loved, in order to obtain 
money to squander in vices of the basest sort. And 
yet, when he again fell in the way of the one- pure love 
of his life, he was ready to be influenced by her truth 


342 “ THEY SHALL TAKE WHO HAVE EHE POWER.” 

and purity to a great extent ; and probably, had he 
been more fortunate in the choice of his religious 
faith, he might have lived an altogether different and 
purer life. 

A day or two after the burial of Norris, Professor 
Hobart said to Van Tine : 

“ I do not think that Norris realized that we came 
for his arrest.” 

“ Nor do I. He was too near to death’s door to be 
able to comprehend your errand, although I am sure 
that he recognized you, for I heard him mutter your 
name when we entered.” 

“Yes, his time was too short for him to say very 
much. I think his love for your little daughter was 
genuine, however, for he he left her ten thousand dol- 
lars in his will. He made out the check in her moth- 
er’s name, Dr. Graham tells me, and explained to him 
— in case there should be any objection made to her 
accepting it — that it was money he had gained hon- 
estly. The balance of his money goes to the Mor- 
mon church. He did not leave your wife anything.” 

“ He did right. Richard knew Emma well enough 
to realize that she would not accept any of his estate.” 
* * * * * * 

About six months after the death of the Danite, 
Ernest and Emma were married again. The wedding 
was a very private one ; Professor Hobart being the 
only witness. 


“ THEY SHALL TAKE WHO HAVE THE POWER.” 343 

Emma, though loving and tender as of old, was a 
trifle graver in her manner, and her character was 
much more dignified. She had grown stronger 
through the purification of suffering. 

She never ceased to thank Providence for delivering 
her from the bondage of being a Mormon wife, and 
restoring her Daisy to her father’s arms. She had 
learned, through bitter experience, to prize her noble 
devoted husband as her greatest earthly blessing. 

He * * * * H« 

Charles King never recovered from the shock of 
Kate Vaughan’s suicide, though he rose rapidly in his 
profession. He is now known as Major King, and he 
is one of the most zealous officers that we have in 
our army. 

He never married, for he could not forget the fair 
young English girl who loved him so devotedly. His 
brother officers never suspected that his life had been 
shadowed by the tragedy of Kate Vaughan’s death, 
and that all his hopes of happiness had been buried 
in her grave on the Jther side of the Rocky Moun- 
tains. 


THE END. 







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